Eradication
by katBrite
Summary: Inception sequel. Upon Browning's discovery of the Inception job, the team is forced to delve into Fischer's mind once more, this time to attempt to perform eradiction.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Eradication**

Summary:** Inception follow-up. Upon Browning's discovery of the Inception job, Cobb once again faces the possibility of never seeing his children again unless he and his team are able to eradicate the idea they originally planted in Fischer's mind. Warning: Rating will probably change a few chapters on (nothing too serious, though). **

Author's note:** Hey everybody! So, basically, I've been reading a lot of fan girl fluff (which is great, don't get me wrong) but it's given me the urge to write something hopefully a bit more similar to the movie. This is my first ever fan fic so please read, it'll help me so much since this is all so new and I'm so timid with this all right now. ****But enough talk, on with the story!**

Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own any part of Inception except for the DVD in my basement.**

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**Prologue**

Peter Browning was aware that something was not quite right with his godson the moment he stepped off the plane in Los Angeles. Another person may have dismissed it as grief for his late father, as jet-lag, even as shock of having to fly on a public airline. But although Browning hadn't spent the past thirty-two years spending quality time with Robert Fischer, he had none the less spent the past thirty-two years watching his godson turn slowly into man, so he was blind if he didn't notice something strange plaguing Robert now. Something... different.

Fischer dismissed all of Browning's questions for several days, a strange almost _mistrust_ in his eyes when he saw his godfather. Finally, though, he opened up to Browning the day after his father's funeral. It was a Friday and the city was busy as its entire population it seemed went out to party for the night. Browning and Fischer sat at the back of a stretch-limo, heading home after a day of very long meetings. The lawyers were still sorting out all of Maurice's affairs, and it was a long and exhausting process. Browning was drifting off now, stretched across several seats in the back of the limbo. The silence stretched out between the two men with neither having anything to say after spending the past few days together.

"Dad wanted me to be my own man, Uncle Peter," Fischer suddenly broke the silence un-expectantly.

Browning opened his eyes wearily. "What?"

"I think Dad wanted me to make something for myself by myself, not just follow in his footsteps," Fischer clarified.

Browning frowned, sitting up and paying more attention. "What brought this on, Robert?" he asked in a gruff voice, deep with fatigue.

"I don't know. Something just got me thinking on the flight on Tuesday. I know, this goes against all of what you stand for and all of what you want, Uncle Peter, but I'm thinking about splitting up Fischer-Morrow into the individual, component businesses again."

"Surely you can't be serious, Robert..."

"I want to prove myself, not just follow in Dad's footsteps. I want to be my own person, build something for myself. I've been thinking about this for a while, Uncle Peter, and it's what I've decided I want to do. Transfer ownership of the company back to the boards off all of the individual companies, end Fischer-Morrow, and start something for myself. Something of _my_ own."

This took a while to sink in with Browning, but as expected when it did sink in, Browning protested. He put up a long fight against Fischer, listing all the reasons why what he was doing was stupid, advising him again and again against this decision, but in the end Fischer ended up telling him point-blank that _he_ owned the Fischer-Morrow conglomerate and that Browning needed to step down. Browning realized then just how determined Robert was to be his own man, not just his father's heir. What stuck out the most in Browning's mind, however, was how suddenly this had come on for Fischer was. Before he had escorted his father's body over from Sydney, he had never so much as mentioned any desire to build anything for himself, never even considered splitting up the company or giving up his inheritance.

Another few days later when Browning questioned Fischer about his sudden change of mind on the flight over, his sense of suspicion further raised as Fischer described his flight. He had fallen asleep for most of the flight he said, and had woken up with this new idea which he couldn't rid.

"I must have been exhausted from planning about what to do with Dad," Fischer smiled at Browning. "That, or the strain of flying on a public plane. Anyway, I just slept through the whole flight and I guess that this idea must always have been in the back of my mind, and sleeping on it finally brought it out in the open."

Browning said nothing, mulling everything over. He remembered waiting for Robert outside the airport and spotting Mr. Saito, the owner of their rival energy company leaving the airport around the same time as Robert. This seemed strange to him, especially since he knew that Saito always flew private. He had dismissed it at the time, telling himself he must be mistaking Saito for someone else as he didn't know Saito's face all that well and he hadn't gotten a very good look at the man. But now, looking back on that, Browning decided that that may have been too great of a coincidence. He decided he needed to make some calls. He needed to know just exactly _what _Mr. Saito (if it had indeed been him) had been doing on that plane with Robert, and perhaps that could lead him to finding a way to change Robert's mind about the future of the company.

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**Chapter One**

Cobb was tired. He had been awoken repeatedly the previous few nights by his nearly four-year-old son, James, climbing into his bed over and over again after being woken by nightmares. The first few nights he had been home he had allowed James to crawl into his bed and sleep with him because he had been so happy to see his son again. Now, though, it was becoming a problem to get James to sleep on his own again.

Philippa wasn't really helping matters. She was seven, and raised hell every morning if she found out that her brother had been permitted to sleep with their father and she had not. The two children were at a stage where they were beginning to fight, and attempting to resolve their childish arguments was beginning to take its effects on Cobb, something Stephen Miles didn't fail to notice. He had rightly suspected his son-in-law would be fatigued when he arrived home and was thrust right into the middle of parenthood after being away for so long, especially without Mal to help him now. Eventually, he knew, Cobb was planning to return to work for the government, now that his charges had been lifted. Until then, though, he was taking several years off and Miles could tell Cobb was beginning to wonder which was the more tiresome of the two jobs.

Miles' original plan had been to stay with Cobb until he was settled in again, but he had begun to notice that the strain of hosting him was becoming as much of a strain on his son-in-law as the kids themselves were. So, after two or three days had passed, Miles decided to stay with his ex-wife, Marie, in her house directly next door to Cobb's. She had been looking after the kids after Mal had died, since Cobb had been on the run and he himself had been teaching in Paris. She wasn't too happy about the arrangement; he knew she blamed him just as much as Cobb for their daughter's suicide. She had always hated him for introducing their little girl and her husband to the career of dream-sharing. But now Cobb was finally home and beginning to patch together the damage he had done, she seemed less unwelcoming to him and Cobb.

Noticing the bags under Cobb's eyes when Marie and Miles had him and the kids over for dinner, Miles spoke up.

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow?" he asked as they all sat around the table. "We can take the kids to the beach or go see a movie."

"And ice cream," James added, picking at his vegetables with his nose scrunched up.

Cobb ran a hand over his eyes. "Thanks, Stephen, but I'm fine."

"We haven't had a day alone with James and Philippa since you came home," Miles pressed. "We've been missing them. Don't worry; we'll be fine."

"I want to go, Dad," Philippa said. Her voice was mature, too old for such a young face, as were her eyes. Cobb knew his daughter had gone through things this past year no child that young should have had to, and it seemed to him to have prematurely aged his daughter. Maybe spending more time with her grandparents and doing more things kids were supposed to do would be good for her.

And so, the next day found Cobb home alone with no idea what to do with himself. Miles and Marie had picked up the kids early that morning and they were down along the shoreline now. He could see them a few hundred yards away along the base of the cliff that their houses had been built on. He settled down in a kitchen chair by the patio door to watch them play. Philippa was swimming in the water, a life-jacket causing her to stay buoyant, dragging her back and not letting her dive below the waves. Miles was waist-deep in the water near-by, keeping a close eye on her, his white hair shining with wet. James was crouching in the wet sand along the shore building a sand castle with Marie. They had a small child's bucket that they were using to carry water back and forth from the ocean to the castle. Cobb guessed they were constructing a moat. He felt his chest constrict momentarily as a similar memory flashed through his mind, one of him and Mal constructing a sand castle with James and Philippa on that very same beach. It had been just under a year ago, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

He looked away from the beach as he tried to push the memory away again when he heard a car pull up onto his driveway outside. His guard immediately raised, he hastily set his coffee by the sink and hurried down the long, narrow hallway. He pushed his eye against the eye-hole just as someone knocked and felt his heart drop.

A well-dressed man was standing outside his door. His dark blonde hair was carefully combed back out his face and his dark tailored suite was clearly a designer brand. In his hand he held a black, official-looking brief case. Behind him, a dark Mercedes was parked in the driveway.

Cobb hesitated for a split-second, then pulled open the top drawer of the small cabinet beside the door and grabbed a semi-automatic handgun from the back of the drawer. He then hastily reached into the bottom drawer of the same dresser and groped at the back for his box of ammunition. He swiftly loaded the gun and tucked it into the waistband at the back of his pants, tucking in his shirt over-top to conceal the handgun.

He paused for a beat to compose himself and remind himself that nobody had any business with him anymore, before putting on his most welcoming, un-suspecting smile as he opened the door.

"Hello," he greeted the man pleasantly. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you're Mr. Cobb I take it?" the man replied. He had a brisk, hurried tone as he looked Cobb up and down.

"Yes. What do you want?" Cobb matched his tone to the man's.

"May I come in? I have some issues about business that I need to take up with you. Clarke, by the way," he added, offering his hand to Cobb, who didn't shake it. The man lowered his hand after a pause. "Yes, well. These matters had best be discussed indoors, if you wouldn't mind."

"Fine, come in," Cobb finally replied curtly. He locked the door shut as the man walked in, and guided him into the living room where the beach wasn't within eye-sight. The man didn't sit down, but instead strode into the room then turned to face Cobb.

"As I said, my name is Henry Clarke and I'm here representing the Fischer-Morrow energy conglomerate," the man said.

Immediately, all of Cobb's warning signals lit up. "What do you want?" he asked harshly.

"To discuss a job you recently completed for a Mr. Saito."

"What do you want?" Cobb repeated, impatient now.

"We want you to erase the idea you planted in Robert Fischer's mind," the man said. "We need you to perform eradication, and we need you complete it before his order to split up the company into the component businesses comes through. We're willing to pay handsomely -"

"No," Cobb cut him off. "I've retired from that side of extraction. I don't want money."

"You are aware that we can report the illegality of the job your performed, and you will once again be on the run, never to see your children again?" the man said testily.

"Not if Mr. Saito were to hear about it," Cobb replied. "Now get out of my house. We're through talking."

"You're sure you're not interested in our offer?"

"Quite."

Clarke told Cobb the amount they were offering, but he was still unfazed. He moved to grab Clarke's arm to escort him out of his house, but Clarke held up a finger to stop Cobb.

"As you can imagine, we're quite determined Mr. Cobb," he said as Cobb grasped his elbow.

"Yes, that's why I want you to leave. Now."

"We're not here to give you an offer," Clarke continued calmly as Cobb began escorting him out of the living room. "We're here to _tell_ you that you will be doing this job for us."

They had reached the narrow hallway once more, and Cobb paused, eyes narrowing. "Or what?"

Clarke shook off Cobb's grasp and walked down the hallway in the opposite direction of the front door. He came into the kitchen and walked over to the patio door. Cobb followed him into the room, where they both looked out the glass double doors at Cobb's family along the base of the cliff. James and Marie had finished the sand castle and were in the midst of showing it off to Miles and Philippa who both had towels wrapped around their shoulders.

"Look there," Clarke said, and Cobb felt a sudden wave of dread wash through him. He masked it though, and merely leaned forward so as to see what Clarke was pointing at.

At first Cobb couldn't spot what it was he was supposed to be seeing, but as he squinted he was able to make out a dark shadow amongst a thicket of trees along the top of the cliff. And he could also make out the narrow barrel of a gun, sun reflecting gently off it.

"No," Cobb snarled.

"And there," Clarke said, and pointed in the opposite direction where another man was hidden. Both men were expertly concealed so as someone could only spot them if they knew exactly where and what to look for. Both men had guns carefully trained on Cobb's children, a few hundred yards away.

"And there," Clarke said, pointing out the last concealed sniper.

"Don't you dare, you -" Cobb's fury choked him and cut off his voice. He wanted to hit the man standing next to harm, but instead his hand was instinctively for the gun concealed in his belt.

"Ah, ah," Clarke said as he saw Cobb going for his gun. He held up a small black cell phone in one hand. "You do that, all I have to do is press this one little button and you won't ever see your children again. Those shooters are all connected to this phone, and they're all just waiting for me to give them the get-go. Unless, of course you decide you _do _just so happen want to complete this one job for us."

"You've been watching us? Following my children?" Cobb muttered in disbelief. How could he have missed them?

"Yes. But not for much longer if you comply with us."

Cobb strode away from the window in an attempt to vent his fury. He ran both hands through his hair, gripping the strands tight in both hands, pulling them so they hurt. "Why me?" he finally managed.

"Only your team can tell us how far you buried that idea in Robert Fischer's mind," Clarke replied. "Only your team knows what you did. You're the only ones who can undo the damage, because you're the only ones who know exactly _what _damage you did."

"If I were to do this..."

"We would leave you alone, I promise you," Clarke replied. "You'd never hear from us again. Neither you, nor your parents-in-law, nor your children will ever be watched or followed by us again. That I guarantee you."

"What about the rest of my team?" Cobb thought of Arthur, of Ariadne, of Eames, Yusuf, and Satio. Undoubtedly Saito would not be a part of this job, but he might need Arthur, Ariadne, Eames or Yusuf, depending on how the job unfurled.

"You may lure them however you want. We can pay them," Clarke offered. "You don't need all of them if you don't wish it. All that we need is for you to make sure that that idea is eradicated. And be warned, Cobb, if you fail we won't be very forgiving to your children." Clarke moved a finger and pressed a different button on the cell phone.

A shot rang out from one of the snipers, and Cobb yelled out for his children instinctively. A splash ripped the water feet from where Philippa was swimming. Cobb heard her scream out in fright and surprise as she swam frantically away from where the bullet had hit the water. He watched in silence as Miles sprinted through the water to check on his grand-daughter. Neither he nor Marie had actually seen the bullet or heard the shot it seemed, they'd merely seen the splash and hurried Philippa's scream.

"Do you get the message, Mr. Cobb?" Clarke asked, turning to Cobb.

Cobb nodded wordlessly, his eyes still on his children.

"Good, then we have an understanding. I'll accompany you immediately to Peter Browning's offices in Los Angeles where you'll meet with him to be further briefed on your assignment. Pack lightly and say your goodbyes now. I'll be waiting here, and remember, Cobb. Try to do anything, make one wrong word..." he finished his sentence by holding up the cell threateningly. "I would advise you to think thoroughly before you try anything."

Cobb nodded again. He had a suitcase already packed in his bedroom for emergency situations and he took that now, stopping to throw some clothing in it as well. Hauling it into the hallway, he left it by the door and went back to the kitchen. He didn't say anything to Clarke as he slipped through the patio doors and began to walk down the shore to say goodbye to his children yet again.

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**So that's the end of chapter one, I really hope you guys liked it! Next chapter we'll meet Arthur, Eames, and possibly Yusuf again. I've got most of this story basically planned out so I hopefully know where it's going to go. As I said before, this is my first fan fic so I'm still pretty shy about everything so PLEASE review and let me know what you guys think! It will really mean the world to me since I have no idea really what ANYONE thinks of any of my work. Thanks so much, you guys are awesome!**

**~kat**


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: **Hi, again. I just wanted to give a big thanks to Kitty Quasar for your lovely review. It really meant a whole lot to me, and I hope you like this chapter. Anyway, this chapter is a little slow, but I need to set everything up before the action starts. I'm sorry we don't actually see very much of Arthur or Eames in this chapter because it's not as long as I thought it would be, but I promise for sure next chapter!**

Disclaimer: **I don't own Inception in any way.**

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**Chapter Two**

In Los Angeles, Cobb was escorted to a workshop being assigned to him and his team by a slightly chiselled, harassed looking man in his late sixties with short, wiry hair who introduced himself as Richards. Clarke hadn't left Cobb's side since they had landed in LA, the cell phone never out of his reach. Cobb didn't fail to notice that the snipers stayed behind with his family, unbeknown to them when he left with Clarke.

"The shooters will follow your family until you've completed the job," Clarke had told him as they had ridden to the airport in the back of his Mercedes. "You sneak back to get them, you rendezvous anywhere with any of them, you make one wrong move, the snipers will find out, they'll see it, and your children will be gone. You take out any of those snipers, the rest will shoot. Their primary directive isn't to defend themselves; it's to kill the kids if there's even the tiniest trouble. Clear?"

Cobb had spent the flight staring out the window, trying to come up with an alternative to performing the eradication. He had thought of talking to Saito, but Fischer's decision to split up Fischer-Morrow still hadn't gone through, so Fischer-Morrow still held more power than Saito's company.

In the airport Cobb had met Richards and Clarke had finally left him. Cobb noted a cell phone identical to Clarke's in Richard's inside pocket, something Clarke didn't miss.

"We all have them," he told Cobb, indicating his phone. "They're all connected, but in case you don't believe me…" He and Richards had then swapped phones so Richards had the original cell phone. Cobb had said nothing. He and Richards had taken a taxi to the workshop in silence, Richards' only words to give the cabbie directions.

Now, as Cobb stepped out of the cab he found himself outside an enormous hotel with the name _The Duke and Duchess _scrawled overtop the glass front doors. Richards joined him as the taxi screeched out of the drop-off loop and back out onto the street.

"There's a meeting room on the ground floor that has been booked for the two weeks or so, for the use of you and your team. You have until the end of the month to complete this job," Richards said, speaking to Cobb for the first time as they both studied the outside of the hotel.

Richards led them into the lobby where a polished marble floor contrasted beautifully with glass windows that made up two of the walls of the lobby. Beautiful, potted, and suspiciously fake-looking plants ornamented the room. A pool could be seen through a floor-length window near the far end of the room where the saltwater was smooth and motionless, the deck and tiles around it pristine and spotless. A lush, red carpet led up to the front desk, but Richards didn't bother stopping there to talk to the hotel clerk. He walked to the end of the room where the elevators were, but he continued pass them, turning left onto a corridor at the end of the lobby. Cobb followed wordlessly behind him, taking careful note of his surroundings. They passed the labelled, maple doors that led into the ballroom, swimming pool, weights room, gym, and billiards room until they finally reached a door at the end of the hall bearing a small, black plaque that simply read _Meeting Room (A)_.

"That will act as your workshop," Richards said, handing Cobb a key. "It is reserved solely for you and your team so there should be no distractions while you're working. Everything you will need is already there, and there are spare keys in your room upstairs. All of your meals will be served for you in the dining room at the other end of the hall or through room service. Everything has been paid for in advance. You should be warned that we're watching the outside of this building, and that we see no need for you to leave it at anytime. We understand that members of your team will need to come and go for various reasons, but none of them will be permitted anywhere near your family. When you and your team are ready perform your job, the number to reach us is by the telephone in your hotel room."

When Cobb nodded curtly, Richards turned from the meeting room and they began to head back towards the lobby. He fished out another key card from his pocket and handed it to Cobb.

"That's for your room," he said. "You're in room number 922, floor nine and we've also booked you rooms 23 to 30."

There were four elevators, and Richards pressed the up button of the elevator closest to them. The doors opened immediately, and Cobb stepped in. Richards didn't follow him, but held the door open with his hand to say a last few words.

"If you need anything, give us a call with that same number in your room," he said. "As I said before, don't leave unless you've specifically asked our permission. The doors of this building are being watched. We expect to hear from you every two days minimum, and if you decide to leave without completing the job, things won't turn out so well for your kids. If you need anything else purchased, send out a member of your team or phone us. We'll be able to give you any financial backing you require, and any assistance should you need it. You have two weeks. Good luck."

"Thank you," Cobb replied stiffly and rather insincerely.

Richards withdrew his hand and the doors hissed shut. Cobb jabbed the number nine button and closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose as his mind scrambled for a way out of his situation.

He sighed as the doors slid open again a few seconds later, revealing a carpeted hallway with sandy, bronze wallpaper, a red carpet, and gold highlights. He made his way down the corridor and found his room. Opening the door, he found a high-class hotel suite, complete with a small kitchen and eating area, a desk and computer, two bedrooms with king-sized beds, a balcony, and an enormous flat-screen television that took up most of one of the walls. He threw his suitcase onto the sofa and sat down on the bed in the first room, loosening his tie. It was only six o'clock in the evening or so, but it seemed like an eternity ago that Miles and Marie had knocked on his door to pick up James and Philippa for a day with their grandparents.

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After ordering some food from room service, Cobb went straight to work. They had two weeks, but he needed to talk to his team to discuss their possibilities, choose a course of action, plan what they were going to do, and then execute it. A part of his mind was still searching desperately for a way to get back to his kids without having to perform the eradication, and another part of his mind was hoping that Arthur or Eames would have some miracle solution.

He phoned Arthur first. He answered his cell phone after the first tone.

"Cobb," he said in way of greeting.

Cobb immediately felt an unexpected feeling of relief rush through him at the familiar sound of his colleague's voice. A sense of calm seemed to briefly sweep through him as Arthur's voice brought back a sense of professionalism to Cobb that he hadn't realized he'd lost over the weeks since the inception job.

"I need your help," Cobb said.

A few minutes later, they both hung up. Arthur had been quick and straight to the point, which Cobb had appreciated. He had told Cobb to expect him at the hotel in two days time; he just needed to tie up a few loose ends from a different job he was completing. From the sounds of it he was in Austria, but would be flying back to America as soon as possible. Cobb hadn't told him what the new job was exactly; he hadn't mentioned that it wasn't a simple extraction. He wanted to tell Arthur that in person, so he had merely said that the job was an emergency. He appreciated that Arthur hadn't asked any questions, but had taken that as reason enough to hurry back to Los Angeles.

The room service arrived before Cobb had the chance to talk to Eames, and he had a feeling that his impatience showed through his cheerful façade as the hotel boy left quite quickly without waiting for a tip.

Arthur had given Cobb the number where he could reach Eames, and he phoned as soon as the door shut behind the delivery boy, not wanting to stall for time.

"Yes, hello," Eames' familiar English accent sounded in Cobb's ear after four or five rings.

"Eames, it's Cobb," Cobb said.

"What do you need?" Eames didn't sound too enthusiastic to be hearing from Cobb again so soon after the completion of the Fischer job.

"I have another job for you."

Eames was quite a bit harder to convince than Arthur, although he was at least still in the country. Apparently, he was in Vegas and wasn't too keen to leave without a good reason first. When Cobb gave him the figure though, he promised to be there sometime the following day and hung up.

Cobb was left in his hotel room, staring blankly at the wall and wondering whether he was doing the right thing. He wasn't really hungry, but he forced himself to eat anyways as he hadn't had any food since breakfast. He contemplated contacting Ariadne or Yusuf, but Ariadne was in Paris once more and he didn't want to endanger her again unless it was necessary. He also needed to discuss with Arthur and Eames whether they would need Yusuf. For the moment, he was planning on being the architect himself, and simply using the same compounds Yusuf had used on the inception job on this eradication job. He had watched Yusuf carefully all the while throughout that job, as had Eames and Arthur, and Cobb thought that they should be able to recreate Yusuf's job in this eradication without too much difficulty.

He finished his meal and threw out the packaging. It was still quite early in the evening, so he headed for the meeting room, deciding to try to get some work done before Eames arrived the next day. He only planned to work for a few hours before returning to the hotel room to get some sleep. He was going to need it if he was going to have to convince Eames to do another job with him, since Eames would be aware of the dangers of Limbo this time.

Cobb sighed as he rode the elevator back down to the main floor. Yes, it was going to be a long next couple of days.

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**So yeah, as I said, this chapter was bit slower and I apologize for that. Next chapter will start to pick up a bit though with a lot more of Arthur and Eames in it, and I promise for some action next chapter! Please, please review! It only takes thirty seconds or so, and it will really make my day. It'll also make me a lot more eager to update more chapters and make any changes that need be, and I'm dead serious in saying that. Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! **

**~kat **


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: **Hey guys, I really want to thank Kitty Quasar again for your awesome reviews, and Echo101. They really make my day, please keep them coming! I hope you enjoy! **

Diclaimer: **I don't own any aspect of Inception.**

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**Chapter Three**

Eames didn't arrive until late afternoon the next day. Cobb spent the most of the time pacing his hotel suite or the meeting room, his mind unable to stay focused on any one subject for any length of time. He phoned Miles around noon to better explain what was happening, but he found that the number had been blocked. He considered contacting him or Marie an alternative way, but he didn't want to risk it. He got Browning's message: he couldn't see or, apparently now, talk to them in anyway before the job was done.

Cobb finally gave up his work around six o'clock in the evening after a very long and restless day. He turned into the lobby to the elevators, planning to return to his room when he spotted a familiar figure trudging in through the front doors of _The Duke and Duchess, _a suitcase in one hand and an air of mal-humour on his face.

"You took your time," Cobb said, walking over to meet Eames.

"I was in the middle of a perfectly lovely time with a charming lady," Eames replied, annoyed. "So excuse me for not dropping everything to meet you here."

"I'm sorry; I wouldn't have contacted you if it wasn't important," Cobb said, leading the way back to the elevators.

Eames was dressed in a dark brown leather jacket, collared shirt and dark pants, the slight bags under his eyes and his foul mood the only sign he had been traveling. He wheeled his suitcase behind them and its wheels made a smooth, deep rolling sound against the marble floor as they walked.

An elevator opened with a ding as they neared it, and a middle-aged woman stepped out. Cobb and Eames strode in before the doors could close again and Cobb jabbed the button for the ninth floor. "How's Vegas?" he asked conversationally.

"Satisfactory. I was thrown out just before you called, lucky for you."

"They've improved their security, then?" Cobb said.

"Counting cards isn't as simple as it once was," Eames replied. "Neither is forging chips."

"As long as you're sure it's the security, not you."

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'm the one we should be worrying about right now," Eames replied in a falsely polite voice.

Cobb looked away as the doors slid open. He could feel a headache coming on. He supposed he deserved Eames' mood in some ways. They walked down the hallway to his room and he swiped his key card through the slit to unlock the door.

He sensed Eames' approval as they stepped into the suite. "Well at least they're putting us up in a nice place," he said, leaving his suitcase by the door and stretching his arms back with a crack.

Cobb grabbed one of the spare key cards from the polished counter of the kitchen and tossed it to Eames who was walking around, taking in the suite, his temper immediately improved at the sight of the comfortable dwellings. "Your room is number 923, across the hallway from this one. Have you eaten?"

"I had a sandwich on the train over," Eames replied, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it across the room to where it landed near his suitcase. "But I'd never say no to a drink," he added with a half-smile, heading over to Cobb's mini-bar and helping himself. "Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Right," Eames said, heading over to a leather armchair by the window with a bag of cashews in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other. He sank into the leather and tilted the chair back, his legs stretched out on the footrest. "Now what's this all about?"

Cobb sighed, rubbing his hand across his eyes. "I was hoping to wait until Arthur shows up to tell you both."

"I'm the only one here so far then, am I?" Eames asked, tearing open the bag of nuts.

"Yes." Cobb walked over to stand by the window, looking out into the street below. "Arthur's in Austria."

"Is Ariadne with him?"

"I don't think so."

Eames raised an eyebrow at him rather disbelievingly, smiling slightly.

"Arthur said she was in Paris," Cobb added, turning to face Eames, his hands in his pockets. "But either way, it's irrelevant. I was planning on being the architect."

Eames frowned slightly. "You sure you're ready for that?" he asked around a few cashews in his mouth.

"Well we'll just have to see, won't we," Cobb replied.

Eames decided not to press the subject. As Cobb said, once they got into the dreamscapes once more to practice and plan, it would hopefully become obvious whether Cobb was still haunted by Mal or not.

"Are we going to need a chemist?"

"I don't know yet. I was planning on discussing that with you and Arthur tomorrow."

Eames nodded with a shrug. "Right-on, well then I'm going to unpack," he said, standing up and heading for the door.

"Our workshop is on the main floor," Cobb called as Eames stuffed the nuts in his right pants pocket and the still unopened bottle of rum in his left. "Meeting Room A. Take one of the spare keys by the door."

Eames nodded, reaching for the plastic. He threw his jacket over his shoulder, grabbed his suitcase and opened the door. "I'll see you in the morning, then. I've a call to make."

"You didn't tell her you were leaving Vegas, then?"

Eames smiled. "You know me too well," he said, stepping out into the hallway. "It wouldn't hurt you to have a love-life again."

Cobb immediately felt a barrier go up. "Goodnight, Eames," he said. "Good luck with—what was her name?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Eames said as he closed the door.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

The next morning, Cobb was woken abnormally early by dreams of Mal. He jerked awake and stared at the ceiling for several long moments, taken aback. He wasn't really startled about seeing Mal in his dreams; he was startled that he was having dreams in general. He hadn't dreamt in years.

He frowned, sitting up and propping himself up on one elbow. It had only been several weeks now since the inception job; several weeks since he had been hooked up to the PASIV. He had taken breaks from extraction this long before, but his dreams had never returned this quickly before. He wondered for a moment whether it was because he had finally begun to accept his life, retired from extraction, which had begun his natural dreaming process once more. Yet here he was, about to delve right back into peoples' dreams.

He stood up and stretched. He was used to having so much happen over the course of a few days, but he had been hoping he would never have to deal with this sort of thing again. He put on the coffee, had a quick shower and got dressed in black dress pants and a dark red button-up shirt. He quickly worked some gel into his hair to keep it back out of his face and eyes and was heading back into the kitchen to pour some coffee when he heard a soft rapping at the door.

He frowned, glancing at his watch. Eames wasn't one to get up this early in the morning.

He strode over and opened the door a slit, peering out into the hall and feeling relief rush through him immediately at the sight of Arthur standing, collected and professional as always, in the corridor outside his door.

He opened the door quickly. "Thanks for coming."

Arthur gave him a very brief smile and stepped into the room. "No problem." He was wearing a dark grey suite, but he had taken off his jacket and it was now slung over his arm. Apart from that, all he had on him was a leather messenger bag and a small travel bag.

He closed the door behind him as Cobb moved back into the kitchen to finish pouring his coffee.

"How early was your flight then?" Cobb asked.

"Five a.m.," Arthur replied. "But it was direct from Vienna to here. It's a nine hour time difference."

"Christ, you must be exhausted," Cobb said. "Coffee?"

"Please."

They sat down on the bar stools at the island in the tiny kitchen. Cobb looked at Arthur; his skin was slightly paler and more sallow than usual, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out more.

"Where's Eames?" Arthur asked.

"He's in the room across the hallway, probably still asleep. Do you want to grab some sleep before I brief you both? It's going to be a long day."

"I'll be fine," Arthur replied.

They made small talk for a while about Austria and how James and Philippa were doing, before Arthur finally drained his mug and Cobb gave him the key to the suite directly beside his. Arthur thanked him and left to shower and put away his things.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

The three of them headed down to the meeting room together around mid-morning, stopping by the dining room on the way down. Cobb and Arthur were quick, Cobb just grabbing some toast and Arthur some fruit, but Eames took his time, heaping his plate with sausages, bacon, and hash browns. Cobb clicked his tongue, trying not to show his impatience. On their way out of the dining room, they were stopped by a harassed-looking kitchen manager who told them that they weren't permitted to leave the room with the dishes and food. Finally noticing Cobb's rather aggressive expression, Eames slipped a bill into the woman's hand and gave her a rather charming smile, saying, "You wouldn't mind just this once, would you love? We'll bring the dishes right back."

Looking rather flustered, the woman waved them out of the room and Cobb lengthened his stride considerably as they walked to the meeting room at the other end of the hallway.

The meeting room was rather plain-looking, but quite elegant. Huge maple walls extended to a high, tiled ceiling. A chandelier hung from the top of the ceiling, hundreds of tiny lights and crystals lighting the windowless room. The floor was marble tiles, the same as in the lobby, but with a deep red, golden-trimmed carpet taking up a good deal of the middle of the room. A half-a-dozen polished tables were scattered around the room, each intended probably for about a dozen people judging by the number of chairs around each.

Eames went for the table closest to the door and unloaded his food onto it, along with his briefcase. He sat down, pulled his dish towards him and dug in. Arthur mirrored him, taking a seat across the table. Cobb sighed, also unloading his armload of things onto the table, but not sitting down. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, before beginning.

"Eradication," he said. "Browning wants us to eradicate the idea we planted in Fischer's mind."

There was a long silence that followed his statement. Cobb monitored Arthur and Eames' reactions carefully. Arthur was fairly expressionless, a barely noticeable frown creasing his forehead as he stared at the table in front of him. Eames on the other hand pushed his dish away, leaning back in his chair and wiping his lips with a napkin.

"Sorry," Eames said, clearing his throat slightly. "But wouldn't that involve going three levels deep again?"

"Theoretically," Cobb said.

"Of course it does," Arthur said. He looked up at Cobb, his eyes narrowed more noticeably now.

"Well that's an easy no-brainer then, isn't it?" Eames smiled.

"Why would you ask us to do that?" Arthur said.

"It's just a job," Cobb quickly said, his voice as calm as ever "And we wouldn't risk falling into Limbo; we wouldn't use as heavy a sedative this time."

"That's not true," said Arthur. "Don't pull that on us again."

Cobb didn't say anything. Eames shook his head slightly at the extractor. "So we both came here for nothing?"

Cobb sat down at the table, looking at the forger seriously. "You saw that figure, Eames. I'm doing this job no matter what, and it would help a lot if you were on board, too."

"Hire another thief," Eames said. "There are plenty out there."

"But not as many forgers," Cobb replied. "And none as good as you. I need you. I need you both. You're the best at what you do, and if I'm going to break into Fischer's mind to eradicate what the two of you helped plant there, I'll need the two of you to help erase it."

"Why are you doing this, Cobb?" Arthur asked. "What's in this for you?"

Cobb didn't reply. He had decided the previous day while he had been waiting for Eames that he wasn't going to tell them about his children. He wasn't sure why exactly he didn't want them to know, but it was similar to Mal's suicide. There was a very private part of him that didn't want Eames or Arthur to know, that that would only make the situation seem even more real to him than it already was. Arthur looked away in annoyance after realizing Cobb wasn't going to answer. Eames raised his eyebrows slightly.

"You're not going to tell us?" Eames asked.

"I can't."

Arthur suddenly stood up. Cobb looked up at him in surprise. "Where are you going?"

"The airport," Arthur replied, gathering his things together. "I can't do this again. If you're still keeping things from us after all this time, I don't want to have anything to do with it." He looked at Cobb, a small touch of regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

He strode from the room, leaving his breakfast untouched. He looked back from the door. "Call me if anything changes." The door shut softly with a click behind him.

There was a long pause as Cobb stared after Arthur with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Eames finished his food. As Eames swallowed the last piece of bacon, he grabbed his bag and stood up, as well.

"Sorry, Cobb," he said. "But just what Arthur said. You understand."

He left without another word, leaving Cobb alone in the room. Eames felt a brief twinge of sympathy for Cobb as he walked down the hallway towards the elevators, but it didn't last long. Cobb could always just hire another forger or point man, or he could just back out of the job. Eames hardly ever turned down job offers, and although he did admittedly want to work again, he wasn't about to face the stress and tension of another job with the constant danger of Limbo. Especially if they were delving into Fischer's militarized mind again.

He was back on the ninth floor, heading for his suite when the door clicked open at the end of the hallway and Arthur stepped out. He had a beige trench coat on, his overnight bag in one hand, his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Going already, then?" Eames asked.

"There's a flight that leaves in two hours," Arthur replied.

"Wait for me, would you?" Eames said, quickly unlocking his door.

He sensed Arthur's impatience, but neither said anything as he hurriedly shoved all of his belongings into his suitcase. Soon they were standing in the lobby once more. No one was at the front desk, so they left the keys on the counter and grabbed a taxi to the airport together.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Arthur was standing in line in front of Eames, waiting to purchase a ticket when a couple of tall, well-dressed men entered the queue behind them. One of them tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Excuse me sir, do you know if there's a flight to Sydney leaving soon?"

Arthur turned to dismiss the bearded man, but stopped as he suddenly felt the cool metal of the muzzle of a pistol pressed against his back. His eyes moved to spot Eames in an identical position; a burly man standing directly behind him so as to conceal the handgun against Eames' back from passers-by.

The first man lowered his mouth to Arthur's ear and Arthur didn't flinch as he felt the man's beard tickle his ear as the man whispered quietly in his ear. "Come with us quietly and don't make a scene."

The man stepped away from him, but Arthur could see the man still held his gun in a ready position inside his jacket. His own thoughts went to the handgun at the bottom of his travel bag at his feet. As if reading his thoughts, the man said softly, "Leave the bags."

The second man grasped Eames' upper arm tightly to lead him out of the airport, but Eames jerked his arm away.

"I can walk by myself, thank you," he said politely. Neither of the men replied, but neither attempted to touch either Eames or Arthur again.

They walked quickly to the nearest set of doors where two dark cars were stopped but running. The bearded man held open the door to the backseat of the first car and motioned at them.

"Get in."

Eames glanced at Arthur and the two met eyes for a split second before Eames slid into the backseat, closely followed by Arthur, neither saying anything. The bearded man sat in the front passenger seat next to the waiting driver, and the second man got into the car behind them. The two cars pulled away.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked as they got out onto the main road and began to pick up speed.

"We work for the Fischer-Morrow energy conglomerate," the bearded man replied. "Maybe you've heard of them."

Arthur and Eames made eye contact for an instant again before looking away.

"What do want from us?" Eames asked.

"Just to talk to you," the bearded man replied.

Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly. "Where are we going?"

"To visit Peter Browning."

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**Hope you liked it! I'm going to have Ariadne come in later, but not for another couple of chapters. I hope all the characters are realistic, it's hard to write them. Please review! It really gives me encouragement to write. Thanks for reading!**

**~kat**


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: **Sorry I'm a bit later than usual in updating. My computer's infected with viruses and has been at a repair shop for the last week or so. Usual thanks in order to Kitty Quasar, you're wonderful, thank you so much for all of your reviews! Please keep them up, they're fantastic for me. I'm a little uncertain about this chapter but I hope you enjoy all the same.**

Diclaimer: **Surprisingly, I still own no part of Inception. **

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**Chapter Four**

The car drive took the better part of an hour from the airport. Eames made the occasional attemptingly witty or charming remark, but they were wasted on both Arthur and the bearded man, so he eventually gave up and fell silent. They finally pulled up outside an elegant glass skyscraper with large bold writing beside the main doors and along the top of the building identifying it as the Fischer-Morrow conglomerate main offices. The bearded man escorted them both inside, keeping a hand constantly under the his jacket, gripped undoubtedly around his handgun. They were led to the top floor and into a very large, lavishly furnished room. The outside wall of the room was made up of glass windows, overlooking the city below them. The sun streaming into it silhouetted the figure standing with his back to them, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other curled around a glass of wine. The bearded man fell back, leaving Arthur and Eames standing near the center of the room as the figure turned around.

"Have a seat," Peter Browning told them, sitting down in a high backed leather chair with his back now to the view of the city. He gestured at the two winged armchairs across from him. "Leave us," he added, and the bearded man left the room along with a security man who had been standing beside the door, hidden in the shadows.

Arthur and Eames exchanged a quick half-glance before sitting.

"Can I offer you anything?" Browning asked.

"No, thank you," Eames replied, while Arthur just shook his head. Browning nodded, clasping his hands together loosely over a slight pot-belly.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Eames," Browning said in a quite strong American accent. "We were sorry to hear about your resignation. But then again, you weren't that invested in your employment with Fischer-Morrow, were you?"

"Ah, so you're the ones who hired Cobb then, are you?" said Eames in a falsely relaxed voice.

"We are," Browning said. "And according to Cobb, we'll be needing both of your services as well if he's to complete his job."

"He told you that?" said Arthur slightly aggressively.

"Not in those words exactly," Browning said, refocusing his attention. "I take it you're the point man, then."

Arthur hesitated. "Yes."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"What do you want, Mr. Browning?" Arthur said.

Browning let out a small huff, looking away for a moment. "It's come to our attention that you two are being less than cooperative with Mr. Cobb. It would be in all of our best interests if you both agreed to work with him."

"Oh, really?" Eames asked, resting his cheek on a closed fist. "Why's that?"

"So things don't have to get complicated," Browning replied. "As you already know, we have a considerable amount of power in this company, so, needless to say, you don't want to be on our wrong side. We know everything and everybody anyone's involved with. We still have enough time to ruin it all for either of you before this company's finished."

"You don't know anything," Arthur said. "You don't have any real leverage."

"Oh, really, you want to test that theory," said Browning. "You think you have nothing, do you? That's not true at all; everyone has so much to lose, they just don't realize it. Just as an example, what if we were to do something about that young architect studying at the _Ecole d'Architecture_ in Paris?"

Arthur stiffened slightly, his eyes locked with Browning's.

"We know just as much about you, Browning," Eames reminded softly, sounding serious for the first time. "Don't you remember, we just did an inception job on your godson with a considerable amount of forging involved."

"I know all of that already," Browning replied, breaking eye contact with Arthur. "Neither of you are really in a position to be making the threats, here, Mr. Eames. Maybe you've forgotten about your younger sister in Hammersmith, or your old dad. Shall I go on?"

"Piss off."

"That's fine," Arthur said tersely. "We get the point."

"I hope so," Browning said. "Please don't forget who we are; what we represent. Cobb's been briefed already, he has everything you need. We need him to be successful. I trust you'll both make this job happen."

Arthur stood up. "Good day, Mr. Browning."

Eames looked up at Arthur and hastily stood up, as well. "See you around," he said, smiling slightly mockingly at Browning and sounding for all the world as though they had just completed a pleasant catch-up over tea.

Browning didn't reply as they left the room. The bearded man was waiting for them outside the room as they left and escorted them in silence back to the main level of the building.

The silence pressed down on them in the elevator.

"So," said Eames at last, looking at Arthur with a slight smile twitching at his lips. "You and Ariadne, then?"

"Shut up, Eames." Arthur didn't even look at him.

Eames did as told, but the smile that overtook his face briefly said everything he would have before they elevator doors dinged open and they walked back out to the dark car waiting for them. A part of him was just a little bit happy to be busy working again.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Their keys were still sitting on the front counter of _The Duke and Duchess_, exactly as they had left them several hours ago. When the let themselves back into their suites, they found their bags waiting there. As Arthur sat down on the edge of his bed and massaged his forehead, he decided he didn't want to know whether the men who had delivered his luggage from the airport had gone through his things or not. He pulled out his totem. He had always had a good grasp of reality, but it was more habit than anything to check now. He rolled the die and felt a wave of fatigue roll over him as it came up with right number. Christ, he was exhausted, he thought of how much had happened since he had woken to his early alarm in Vienna. He'd been up for nearly twenty-four hours already, and it was still only late afternoon in LA.

He heard a faint knock at his door. Eames walked in without waiting to be given permission. "I'm going to get something to eat," he said. "And drink, God knows I'll be needing it if we're going to be prepping for three-level dreaming again. Care to come?"

"We need to talk to Cobb first," Arthur replied.

"You go ahead if you want," Eames replied. "I need some beer first, though. Cobb'll be fine for another half-hour; it won't hurt him to sweat a little longer." He looked down at Arthur, one side of his mouth pulling up into a smile. "Come on, even I can see you need a pick-me-up, Arthur."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Cobb had spent the day tracking down a number he could reach Yusuf by. The chemist was back in Mombasa at his shop. He phoned him around mid-afternoon, and to his relief Yusuf answered fairly promptly, identifying his store in Swahili.

"Yusuf, it's Cobb."

"Ah, how are you, Mr. Cobb?" Yusuf said, switching back to English. "I bet this is going to cost me a fortune in phone bills, will it?"

"Don't worry, I'll cover it," Cobb replied. "I need your services again."

"So soon?"

Cobb could hear the surprise in Yusuf's voice. "I need copies of the compound you used on the inception job. And the ones you used to sedate us."

There was brief silence on the other end. "You're not planning another inception, are you?"

"No," Cobb said quickly. "And I wouldn't ask you, but-"

"Sorry, Cobb," Yusuf interrupted. "I'm not going into the field again. Not after the near misses of the last job."

"At least let me give you the details of this job," Cobb said quickly. He was already down Eames and Arthur, how the hell was he going to go three levels deep if so far his team was made up only of him?

"I can give you the compounds and show you what to do with them," Yusuf offered. "But that's as much as I'll do. Can you fly over here?"

"No, I can't get away from LA," Cobb said. "We can pay your way here and back, though, plus the usual for your time and the compounds."

"When do you want me there?"

"As soon as you can," replied Cobb.

"Expect me sometime in the next few days, then."

"See you then," Cobb said before hanging up. He would have time to convince Yusuf to play host to the first level of the dream again once he arrived at the hotel, he told himself firmly.

His thoughts went to his kids, and he felt a wave of all-too familiar guilt crash over him. His eyes shifted to the PASIV lying at the end of the table he had spread all of his work over. He considered taking a break; he needed to see James and Philippa. He felt his fingers close tightly over Mal's top in his pocket and he wrenched his eyes away from the PASIV. No, with Ariadne's help he had left that part of him behind him following the inception job. He wasn't going back to relive his memories again.

His fingers tightened around the top and he felt it digging into his palm. He knew this was reality. He didn't need to check.

Suddenly there was a loud bang as someone slammed the door to the meeting room open. Cobb jumped and swung around, his hand reaching instinctively for the gun at his back... except there wasn't one there. His thoughts swirled to remind him that this _was_ reality; he only carried guns when he was in dreams.

Eames stood in the doorway, a bottle of beer in one hand. "Bet you're glad to see us."

Cobb blinked as Arthur stepped into the room behind Eames, closing the door much more quietly than Eames had opened it. "You came back."

"Well spotted," Eames said, moving off to one of the tables to the right. "Let it be known that I'm claiming this area as my work space and if either of you put any of your things with mine I'm not responsible for where-ever they may end up." He began unloading the assortment of things in his arms onto the table, setting up his work space and helping himself to any of the supplies he wanted stacked around the room.

Cobb was left with Arthur. "Thank you," said Cobb quietly. "What made you change your mind?"

"Browning," Arthur replied shortly, and added sarcastically, "Thanks for the heads up."

Cobb felt his heart sink. "I'm sorry." He could smell a faint trace of alcohol on Arthur, and he took that for his partner's unusually aggressive mood. His eyes went to Eames in the corner, and he knew that getting Arthur angry enough to chew him out was probably Eames' doing.

Arthur shook his head in annoyance. "You know, you could have just told us the truth from the start. Why does everything have to be such a puzzle with you, Cobb?"

Cobb didn't say anything.

"I've known you for how many years now?" Arthur continued. "And you're still keeping things from me. I'm here on one condition."

"Name it."

"No secrets," Arthur said. "That's what led to Saito falling into Limbo, and if we're going back down into three levels of Fischer's mind, none of us are going to be falling down there again. Understood?"

Cobb nodded.

"Thank you," Arthur said, moving off to a table on the opposite end of the room from Eames to begin setting up his own things.

Cobb breathed a silent sigh of relief as Arthur walked off. Arthur hadn't actually been that upset, something that didn't pass unnoticed by Eames. His eyes narrowed as he looked at him from across the room.

"I would have pissed him off myself if I knew that's all you had in you, Arthur," Eames said, sounding annoyed.

"We're not all born as quick-tempered as you, Mr. Eames," Arthur replied, not looking up as he unloaded his messenger bag.

"We'll have our first planning session in half-an-hour after you're both settled in," Cobb said before Eames could reply. "Yusuf will be arriving within the next few days. I hope you're both ready to start dreaming again."

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**Sorry, not as long as usual, but the next chapter should be a little more exciting as they'll start dream sharing**** again and Yusuf will show up (briefly). If all works out as I have planned, Ariadne will show up the chapter after that. Reviews are wonderful, please let me know what you think!**

**~kat**


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: **Hey guys, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy! Usual thanks to Kitty Quasar for your awesome reviews, they're so informative and I love it. Also thanks to anyone else who has reviewed or who will in the future!**

Diclaimer: **I own no aspect of Inception in any way.**

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**Chapter Five**

Their first planning session went straightforward enough. The three of them basically agreed on the same things from the start (with a few minor disagreements between Eames and Arthur). They agreed that to completely eradicate the idea they had planted in Fischer's mind they would have to break into that particular part of his mind once more. They would then have to extract and destroy the original idea and plant the new one in its place. To do that, they were going to have to do their best to get Fischer to allow them access to that particular part of his mind once more.

"We all know how delicate a mind is," Cobb said, walking around in front of Arthur and Eames who were sitting at the table, Eames with his feet up. "It's not like we can just go up to Fischer with a gun and tell him to let us into that part of his mind. We need to get him to give us voluntary subconscious access."

"Well suppose we were to duplicate the first level or so of the inception job?" Eames suggested. "His mind would fill in the bottom level of the dream by itself from memory, including the vault again. He wouldn't even realize he was doing it."

"Yes, but would he even remember the inception job that well?" asked Arthur. "There are plenty of hotels and cities that are alike to those particular dream levels."

"The idea we planted in his mind is significant enough that he should remember the levels of the dream once he's in them," said Cobb. "And most of all he'll remember the distinct feeling of those levels, especially with our presence in his mind once more."

"That'll make us an easy target for his subconscious then," Arthur said. "He'll remember the layouts of the levels from before so his projections know where to look for us."

"Not if we hid in different parts of the mazes," said Cobb. "We'll still have the disadvantage though, as his projections will still be somewhat familiar with the dreamscape. How elaborate were the mazes Ariadne taught you both?"

"I don't know about Yusuf's level, but mine was quite detailed," said Eames.

"Same here," Arthur agreed.

"So, if we were to present him with the first identical level again, hopefully he'll begin to remember. By the second level, Fischer will subconsciously know what's going on, so by the third level down hopefully he'll fill in all of the details from the inception job," said Cobb. "Including the idea we planted in his safe."

"So if we were to break into the safe before he got there and replaced the information," Arthur said. "You don't think he would notice?"

"Not before we've destroyed that idea and replaced it with the new one," Eames said. "And by then it will be too late."

There was a slight pause as Arthur thought this over, nodding slowly in agreement.

"Could you forge Maurice Fischer, Eames?" Cobb asked suddenly.

Eames puffed out his cheeks, leaning his head back so he could properly see Cobb's face. "That'd be bloody difficult. I never researched him, so I don't have much to copy from. I doubt I could make his mannerisms familiar enough for Fischer to take it."

"But even Fischer didn't know his father very well," Cobb said. "You spent those weeks at Fischer-Morrow in Sidney with Browning, surely you saw Maurice from time to time. You'd only need to talk to Robert Fischer for a couple minutes tops to plant that new idea before the kick."

Eames shrugged. "Well, it's risky but, sure, we can try it."

Arthur frowned, looking at Cobb. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "If even Eames isn't sure about it..." he trailed off, not needing to complete his sentence.

Cobb nodded, not making eye contact with the point man, before changing the subject. "So you both can duplicate the same second and third levels from the inception job that Ariadne taught you," he said. "That just leaves us with the first level."

"Will Yusuf not do it?" Eames asked.

"I don't know, he hasn't arrived yet so I haven't really talked to him" Cobb replied. "But he seemed... reluctant, to say the least."

"And if he won't?" said Arthur. "You could host that level, couldn't you Cobb?"

"Eames needs me in that bottom level," Cobb said. "Someone needs to lead Fischer into the complex and into the vault where Eames will be."

"We'll need another person then, if Yusuf won't do it," Arthur said.

"If Yusuf won't do it, we could phone up Ariadne in Paris," Eames suggested. "She knows the layout of the dreams better than anyone."

"No," Arthur and Cobb both said at the same time.

"We're not bringing her into this," Cobb said immediately.

"Come off it-" Eames started, but Arthur cut him off.

"She has her own life now, Eames," he snapped. "Let her get on with it. It's too dangerous for-"

"For a lady, is that it?" Eames asked, eyebrows raised.

Arthur shook his head but Cobb interrupted before he could say anything. "She's not trained to be in the dream levels, Eames," he said. "She was fine in the inception job because she always stayed beside me or Arthur, but this is different. She won't be able to protect us from Fischer's militarized projections, especially not for that long in the top level."

Eames fell silent with a shrug.

Cobb sat down in a chair at the table beside Arthur, facing Eames. "If Yusuf won't agree to this, then we'll just have to hire someone else."

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It was nearly three days before Yusuf finally showed up at the hotel. He walked into the meeting room before lunch, saying that the hotel clerk had told him he could find the team there.

"Have you got them?" Cobb said in way of greeting, walking over to Yusuf. Arthur stayed at his table with his laptop, surrounded by photos and papers, but paying close attention to the conversation. Eames was out, ransacking the offices at Fischer-Morrow for any meeting tapes or videos that might have footage of Maurice in them.

Yusuf nodded, nudging at the more professional looking of the two cases he had with him. "All in there, everything you need. I had to make everything from scratch again, that's why it took so long. And arranging flights is a bloody nightmare. There's a reason I don't usually travel."

"Thanks for coming, I appreciate it," Cobb said.

Yusuf walked over to the table the PASIV was lying on and placed his case down beside it and began unloading all of the compounds. "I brought plenty of extras," he said. "I didn't know how much you would be preparing since we already trained with the compounds for in the inception job."

"That's fine," Cobb said, his eyes on the vials Yusuf was placing on the table. "We have about a week and a half still until we're supposed to complete the job. Is there any chance you could stay and work on perfecting the sedative until then so that we won't risk falling into Limbo?"

Yusuf smiled gently at Cobb. "Impossible. And in a week and a half? Cobb, I've spent months and months working on that sedative. I'm not going to come up with a miracle solution in a few days." Finishing unloading all of the vials of the compound, he snapped his case shut and turned to face Cobb. "Do you have my paycheck?"

Cobb nodded and pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "There's no rush to leave," he said. "Why don't you come have a drink? You must be tired from your flight."

Yusuf hesitated, and Cobb could see in his eyes that he knew exactly what Cobb was trying to do. "No, no, that's alright, thank you. I'm meeting up with a friend soon, anyway."

"Eames should be back soon," said Cobb. "Why don't you have dinner with the three of us so we can catch up with how you're doing?"

"Cobb, it's barely been six weeks since the inception job," Yusuf said. "I'm doing exactly the same as when we parted then. It was good to see you, but now if you'll excuse me."

He began to head for the door. Cobb glanced at Arthur, and Arthur gave him an urgent look.

"Yusuf, wait," Cobb said.

"I'm not going into the field again!" Yusuf cut across Cobb, sounding annoyed for the first time. "Please save it. I'm sorry, but I'm perfectly happy right now without this, I don't want to become so involved in a job again."

"You still haven't even heard what we're offering."

"I don't need the money," Yusuf replied. "And I don't want anything else."

He reached the door and opened it, looking back. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Best of luck to you both. Give my regards to Mr. Eames."

He left the room. Cobb and Arthur stared at each other for a long beat, then Arthur stood up and hurriedly followed Yusuf out of the room.

Cobb sank into a chair by the PASIV. Things had finally been looking plausible, and now yet again everything was begging to blow up around him. His mind began to scramble desperately for solutions.

Several long minutes passed before the door to the meeting room opened again. Cobb's head snapped up hopefully as Arthur walked back into the room.

"I told him everything," Arthur said. "He still wouldn't do it." He sank into the chair across the table from Cobb. The vials sat between them, the glass reflecting the light of the chandelier up at them. The silence stretched out, each of them immersed in their own thoughts.

"So what do we do now?" Arthur finally asked.

"We wait until Eames arrives back before we discuss it," Cobb said, then sighed and gestured to the PASIV. "Care to go under?"

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

They were standing in the middle of a super market, in the grocery section. Arthur glanced around, taking in his surroundings. Cobb was the dreamer; this was his invention. The building was rather standard, though more beautiful than a customary super market with bricks making up one side, a high ceiling and elegant wooden beams. It was fairly crowed with projections; Arthur supposed this was because his mind was in overdrive after the un-customarily long break from dream sharing. It seemed the same was with Cobb, as the building kept growing larger and larger as he watched, its architecture changing and rearranging itself to accommodate the rapidly rising number of departments.

"Cobb," Arthur quickly warned as the other shoppers all frowned in confusion, looking around, focusing on the two of them.

"Right, sorry," Cobb muttered. The construction of the building slowed to a halt, and everything stilled.

Arthur gave Cobb a side-long glance. "Feels good to be building again, then, does it?"

"You've no idea."

Cobb led the way out of the fruit aisle they were standing in. He was dressed in a plain leather jacket with a dark polo shirt underneath, and a quick glance in Arthur's direction showed him that his partner was dressed similarly.

Cobb didn't continue building as they stepped out onto the parking lot of the supermarket. His dreamscape had been created, and all they were here to do now was observe. They were a block away from the crowded main street of the city. They headed to the busy downtown street, and Cobb turned to walk uptown. They continued along for several minutes before Cobb turned down a busy adjoining street, and they crossed a bridge over a river that split the city in two. They stopped near the middle of the bridge to observe the view of the city from Cobb's mind.

"You certainly haven't lost your knack," Arthur said quietly as they looked out at the sprawling streets and towering skyscrapers that stretched around them in every direction.

Cobb didn't reply as he gazed around, leaning against the railing that prevented pedestrians falling from the narrow sidewalk into the water below them. Despite the deafening sounds of buses screeching past and the river thundering beneath them, he felt a sudden wave of peacefulness wash through him. He was back to architecture, back to what he had always been meant for. What better place was there to admire his work from? He had always been interested in the architectural design of bridges, and he had so many memories of him and Mal enjoying the views from bridges together in happier times.

An arm snaked gently around his waist, bringing him back from his thoughts. He spun his head around in surprise, thinking it was Arthur for a moment, before he found himself eye to eye with a familiar set of green ones.

"I've missed you, Dom," Mal said softly.

Cobb stared down into her lovely face in surprise, completely taken aback. He had assumed, apparently wrongly, that he had put her memory to rest during the inception job. She, too, seemed unsure that they were really together, as she moved her other hand up to touch his cheek, as though to reassure herself that he really was there.

"Cobb, what the hell-?" he heard Arthur start, his voice low and menacing, but he cut the other man off.

"No, wait, Arthur," he said, staring down into his wife's loving eyes before continuing cautiously, "I think- I think this is a different projection of her. I don't think this projection will endanger the dream."

He felt, rather than saw Arthur's disbelief, but he did his best to ignore it as Mal nodded up at him, her eyes large and innocent.

"Of course not," she said softly in her beautiful, though mild, French accent. "I would never do anything to hurt you, I'm so sorry for everything. Are the children alright?"

Cobb swallowed. "They're just fine, Mal. They miss you so much. Almost as much as I do."

"Cobb..." Arthur started in warning again, but Mal's hypnotizing eyes shot up to lock with his.

"Arthur," she said gently, smiling. "You don't need to be so worried about me. I'm not going to do anything."

Arthur still looked at her, unfazed. Mal stepped away from Cobb, closer to Arthur, her smile faltering for a moment.

"Please, Arthur," she said softly, her voice wavering slightly. "I'm not going to do anything, I promise you. I know now, I know what's real, and up there in reality, my children need their father to come home. I'm here to help him get home."

For the first time, Arthur's face displayed a trace on uncertainty. He looked to Cobb. "Your projection of her feels different, you said?"

Cobb hesitated, and then nodded. "When Ariadne and I followed her and Fischer down into Limbo on the last job, I... confronted her. She died in Limbo."

"And you trust her now?"

This time, as Mal turned from Arthur and gently took Cobb's hand, he didn't hesitate in answering Arthur. "Yes."

Arthur's gaze didn't waver as he continued analyzing Cobb's face. "Then that's good enough for me," he said at last.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Eames had had a highly successful day, and he was feeling quite good about it all as he returned to the meeting room late in the afternoon. He had finally found some footage of Maurice Fischer in the memory banks of one of the computers of the Fischer-Morrow offices. That had been the key find that had then led him to floodgates of visual and audio recordings of various meetings, important enough that Maurice Fischer should have been in attendance for all of them. He had copied them onto an USB stick, and then left for _The Duke and Duchess_, planning on thoroughly examining each of them in the cool comfort of either his hotel suite or the working atmosphere of the meeting room.

Unlocking the meeting room door to let himself in, he saw Cobb and Arthur asleep in chairs at the table, hooked into the PASIV together. A collection of vials lay by the PASIV, telling him of Yusuf's visit. He headed over to the two of them and glanced at the timer; they had another minute left. He fought the sudden urge to test Arthur's inner ear function, and headed to the corner of the room to his table. He booted up his laptop and was heading over to the fridge for a drink when the timer on the PASIV went off. He glanced to his team members at the table as the high pitched beeping continued in increments of four. Arthur's eyes opened at the same time that Cobb woke with a slight jerk.

Arthur quickly withdrew his needle, wiping away the tiny drop of blood left by the twin injection marks of the IV line. Ignoring Eames, he walked over to his space in the corner and began working, a look of intense concentration on his face. Meanwhile, Cobb was leaning forward, still in his chair, his elbows on his knees, his heart still hammering.

"Been a while since Yusuf's sedative, eh?" Eames said, stopping on his journey to the fridge to talk to Cobb, his hands in his pockets. "Powerful as ever then, is it?"

Cobb looked up at him slowly, before tearing the IV line out of his wrist, and walking out of the room without replying. Eames watched him go, then went over to the PASIV and began properly packing it away as Cobb had failed to do so. He glanced in Arthur's direction, and found the younger man still immersed in his work.

"So what changed down there?" Eames asked.

"Mal," said Arthur briefly in answer.

Eames felt his heart sink. "Still?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, that's the thing. Cobb thinks we can work with her, he thinks she can help us."

Eames blinked, his face expressionless. "I'd think you were pulling my leg, Arthur, but seeing as it's you I'm talking to, I suppose that that would be a rather ridiculous assumption."

Arthur turned his attention back to his work, not wanting to continue the discussion if Eames wasn't going to have any big issues with the alteration in their plan. "You flatter me," he said shortly.

Eames opened his mouth to reply, but Arthur cut him off. "Thank you, Eames, I appreciate your silence," he said pointedly.

Eames smirked, before returning to the fridge for his drink as he replied, "Don't get used to it."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Cobb could feel himself shaking as he left the meeting room. He had forgotten how sharp Yusuf's compound was, and he couldn't rid the image of Mal from his mind. His fingers clenched around his totem in his pocket, but there was a young family at the far end of the hallway and no smooth surface he could spin the top on. He headed for his suite, making room impatiently in the elevator for an elderly Vietnamese couple as they took their time entering the elevator on the second floor, then exiting it again on the third.

Finally in his room once more, he headed for his desk and sat on the edge of the chair at the desk. He set the top spinning across the top of the polished surface, and watched for several long seconds before the top finally unbalanced and toppled over. He reached for the phone, his thoughts still on Mal. They still didn't have someone to dream the first level of the eradication, and Mal's appearance in the dream had shaken him more than he wanted to tell Arthur. He wasn't certain about any course of action now, but he knew he couldn't let Eames or Arthur become aware of that. He had to seem completely in control of the job. He made a quick decision and dialed the number.

The phone rang twice, before someone picked it up. _"Oui, bonjour?" _

"Ariadne, it's Cobb."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

**So that's it for now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wrote out an alternate version of it, then I went back and rewrote parts of it because I came up with a different idea ****that will, with any luck, make things more exciting in the chapters to come since I know these chapters are a little dry. Hopefully it will all work out. I won't be dragging the planning out much longer, I'm almost finished setting everything up. Please, let me know what you think, I love to hear from you! **

**~kat**


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: **A little later than usual, my apologies for that. This chapter's extra long to make up for it. Thank you, Kitty Quasar for the usual. I love your little 'essays' for me, haha, please don't stop. This chapter's got a bit of a different feel to it, just in terms of pacing and the scenes themselves... hopefully the chapter isn't different for the worse, though.**

Disclaimer: **Obviously, Inception does not belong to me.**

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

**Chapter Six**

Arthur was livid the that evening when Cobb told him and Eames that Ariadne was flying over from Paris the following day. Eames found Arthur's anger greatly entertaining, which didn't help Arthur's mal humour. He ended up muttering something about going out before leaving the meeting room somewhat noisily to take a break from both Eames and Cobb.

Cobb glanced at Eames once Arthur was gone. "Layout off him a bit, would you? We need him to be with us if Ariadne is going to host the top dream level."

Eames shrugged, not really giving Cobb his full attention. He moved over to the PASIV and began to prime it. "Arthur knows what he does or doesn't like. My comments aren't going to sway his opinion of anything, or his feelings."

Cobb frowned at Eames at his implication that Arthur and Ariadne's relationship might be anything more than business colleagues. "No, I've talked to him. He promised me there isn't anything going on between them."

"Oh, Arthur, he says a lot of things," Eames said as he inserted some of Yusuf's vials into the cradles of the PASIV.

"He's a man of his word."

Eames moved on to adjust the dosage of the sedation and lock the timer. "True, but that isn't to say he doesn't twist the truth a little for convenience."

"What are you saying?"

Eames stopped and turned to face Cobb, his tone slightly more serious. "Just because there isn't anything going on doesn't mean Arthur doesn't have feelings for Ariadne."

"Because you're the expert on the subject," said Cobb, annoyed. "How could you-"

"Look, I'm just warning you incase it jeopardises the job," Eames said, sitting in the chair by the PASIV and swabbing at his wrist with disinfectant. "When any kind of feelings exist between two team members it never goes well, you know that as well as I do. You and Mal didn't end up too well off, as one of the many examples."

Cobb stiffened slightly, but shook his head none the less as Eames gently inserted the needle at the end of the IV line into his own wrist. "I trust Arthur's judgement," Cobb said. "Things won't become complicated."

"Yeah, but that's just the thing," Eames said, settling back in his chair. "Arthur's judgement is that he doesn't want Ariadne on this job."

Cobb rubbed a hand over his forehead. "I thought you were all for having Ariadne on board, Mr. Eames. What changed?"

"Oh, I'm still all for it," Eames said, smiling briefly. "I just wanted to make sure that you're aware of everything that may happen. We all need to plan for any possible complications, from any eventuality, and we don't need you or anyone else losing it halfway through the job."

Cobb nodded. "Alright." He gestured at the PASIV, changing the subject. "Let me know how it goes." Eames nodded back before pressing the middle injection button. His eyes closed as the PASIV hissed out the compound into the tube and he was asleep.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Arthur left to pick up Ariadne from the airport the next afternoon, an annoyed shake of the head his only answer to Eames' charming request of accompanying him to get the architect. He arrived in the early afternoon in a navy blue, rented Sedan. He parked and headed into the international airport. The line wasn't long at security, so he headed through it, brushing through the security guards quickly, barely looking or talking to them. He checked the board to see which gate Ariadne's plane was landing in before seeing that it was due any second at the opposite end of the airport. He arrived just as the passengers were leaving the plane. He spotted Ariadne as she stepped out of the shoot and through the sliding metal gateway. She was dressed somewhat plainly in dark jeans, a beige jacket and a red scarf with a matching purse. When she saw him, however, her smile seemed to make her radiate.

"Arthur," she said, walking over to him, rolling her suitcase behind her and giving him a one-armed hug.

He took her suitcase for her as they began head for the parking lot after she told him that the carry-on suitcase and purse were all she'd brought. "How've you been?" he asked.

"Good, you know," she said, comfortably falling into step beside him."Studying."

He nodded. "How was the flight?"

She shrugged. "Customary. Long."

He smiled down at her, and was surprised as he realized how much he'd missed her since he'd last seen her. She looked back up at him, her eyes locking momentarily with his. They reached security and headed through it once more.

"And how about you?" she said, turning her attention back to him once they were past the security personnel. "How have you been?"

"Fine," he said as they continued down the hallway. "I had a job I was working on in Austria for a few weeks, in Vienna."

"Just by yourself?"

"Yeah, it was a pretty straight-forward job."

"Can you tell me about it, or is it top secret and you're not supposed to tell anyone?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly raised teasingly at him.

"Well, technically speaking it is secret, but that doesn't mean I won't tell you," Arthur replied.

The doors to the parking lot came into sight and Arthur paused. It had taken him less than fifteen minutes to reach the airport in the Sedan at this time of day. An over-priced coffee shop caught his eye on the other side of the hallway. "Are you tired from your flight?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little."

"Do you want to grab a coffee?"

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Eames' dream the previous evening had gone customarily well. He had mainly worked on the image of Maurice Fischer, perfecting the layout of the man's wrinkles and the colouring of his skin and eyes. He'd worked in front of a mirror in the quite plain private apartment he had built himself. He spent that morning dreaming again, still working on the physical appearance of Maurice, still perfecting it so it matched seamlessly with the footage of Maurice from the recordings he had sustained.

Meanwhile, Cobb made calls, talking to various people and planning out the details of the way they would perform the eradication. Around mid-afternoon, he checked his watch and frowned. Arthur and Ariadne should have been back by now.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

"So why did you come back?" Arthur asked eventually, one hand around his half-finished coffee. They were sitting in a somewhat dark corner of the coffee shop at a small, circular table, the farthest from the busy brightness of the airport hallway.

"Because I missed it," Ariadne answered simply. "After I went back to school, I couldn't think of anything else. It was like I was consumed by the need to dream again, to... create."

Arthur nodded, listening, watching her intently. When he didn't interrupt her, she continued to elaborate with her explanation, her hands held loosely around her Styrofoam coffee cup, her fingers tracing the outline of the shop's logo on the front.

"I wanted to talk to Miles about it, but he was away on leave," she said. "And all the while, the sketching, the models, it all seemed so... mundane. There I was in class, day after day, reading about the structure of a certain type of building, when if I could just dream again, I could build an entire city experimenting with that same structure. It wasn't enough for me anymore. It still isn't."

She looked up at him, catching his eyes and holding them. "Does it ever get better?" she asked. "I mean, when you first started dreaming, was it the same for you?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, then broke her gaze, looking away. "It gets better over time," he said. "But, yes, when I started dreaming it was a long time before I could settle with reality again. I still have trouble being away from dream sharing for a long period of time."

She nodded slowly. He saw that she had finished her coffee, and inclined his head towards the airport once more. "Do you want to go now?"

She nodded and stood up, throwing her cup in the recylcing on the way by, Arthur throwing his in the garbage as it was still half-full of coffee.

Their conversation moved to lighter topics as Arthur drove them to the hotel. They pulled into the loop by the front doors, and a valet hurried out to take the car. Arthur handed him a bill as he pulled Ariadne's suitcase from the trunk and took it into the hotel for her. They rode up to the hallway their suites were on in comfortable silence. Arthur led the way down to their rooms as the doors opened with a small ding, carrying her case as it wouldn't roll properly on the carpeted hallway.

"That's Cobb's room," he said, gesturing at it with his free hand. "Eames is across from his, and I'm beside Cobb's."

Ariadne nodded, continuing to walk down the hallway to the room on the other side of Arthur's. "I'll take this one," she said.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Ariadne settled back into things quite well once she was immersed with the team and the job once more. Over the next few days, she went over each level of the dream with Eames and Arthur privately once more. They changed a few minor things in each level, but they all agreed that they didn't want to make any other changes incase it significantly changed the dream level from the one in Fischer's memory. She worked quite a bit on her own as well, working on what was formally Yusuf's level. She talked to him over the phone to perfect the tiny details and to make sure she was aware of any changes he had made to the layout she had originally taught him in the lead-up to the inception job. She spent quite a while with the PASIV, working on her level, as well as just entertaining herself in her dreams. Creating whole new worlds when she was alone (to ensure no hostile projections from the other dreamers), bending the physics, experimenting with every aspect of the dream she could.

Meanwhile, Eames was nearly finished perfecting his impersonation of Maurice Fischer. Browning had been very helpful to him in any way, even giving Eames supervised dream-sharing access with some of the low-level, retired executives of the company who had known Maurice. He had thereby been able to interact and study their projection of Maurice through their shared dreams. Eames also kept revising his dream level with Ariadne to ensure everything was the same as in the original dream level. He helped Cobb and Arthur quite a bit in the actual planning of the eradication as well, never quite trusting them completely to have the plan as plausible as possible.

Arthur spent a good deal of his time with Ariadne, helping her with her continuous questions about dream sharing, as well as accepting her help in recreating his hotel dream level. He and Eames also began training her in dealing with militarized projections, mainly focussing on artillery. When not immersed in work with her, he worked on his own research into Fischer. He was checking and double checking everything that had occurred within the past few weeks that could factor into their job, and anything else that he may have missed in his research from the inception.

Cobb worked with Arthur on this quite a bit, researching the exact training of Fischer's mind so they could go about deciding the best way to defend themselves against them this time around. Like Ariadne, he also spent a good deal of his time dream sleeping. In his dreams, he spent his time with his changed projection of Mal. They spent hours and hours together in the dreams, varying between focussing on the job and on recreating their romantic time together. She helped him fill the hole the absence of James and Philippa had created in his chest, and when he was with her, he sometimes had to remind himself of what was a dream. But despite his happiness of being with her, deep down, a part of him warned him of her, warned him that this projection wasn't as wonderful as it appeared. But he pushed that part of his thoughts away, not wanting to have to contemplate that possibility.

He spent most of his time in reality devising their main plan, deciding the best way to plant the new idea in Fischer's mind and eradicate the old idea. Along with the input of Eames and Arthur, he decided that, as they had originally thought, the best way to plant the new idea in Fischer's mind was the most straight-forward way: break into the vault in his mind (unbeknown to him), and replace the information in the vault. If they did this properly, hopefully Fischer wouldn't be able to trace the true genesis of the idea since they would have planted it so deep into his mind at that point.

And so, nearly two weeks after Cobb had left his home and arrived at The Duke and Duchess, their plan was finalized and Cobb phoned Browning to let him know they were ready. They planned a date and time the team could go over to the Fischer-Morrow buildings where they would meet Browning. Fischer would be drugged prior to their arrival, so everything would be set up when they arrived and they would have to do minimal work once they were actually with Fischer.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

It was two nights before they were scheduled to perform the job and Cobb was lying on his bed in the main room of his suite. The television was turned onto a news station, but he wasn't watching it. He had a few photos of James and Philippa that he kept in his wallet out and in his hands; he was fighting the urge to go down to the meeting room and spend a few hours dreaming with Mal before he went to bed. He didn't have to make up his mind, however, as a soft knocking came at his door. He sat up, quickly tucking the photos of James and Philippa back into his wallet.

"Come in," he called.

Ariadne stepped into the room. "Sorry to bother you, Cobb," she said softly. "I know you have a lot on your mind."

"Don't worry about it," he smiled at her. "Come in and sit down."

She sat on the edge of the bed, turning to face him. "Eames was just telling me about Mal," she said.

She had only shared a dream with Cobb a couple times over the past week or so, and those had both been shared with Eames and Arthur in addition to her and Cobb. Mal had not appeared in those dreams, so she hadn't known about his projection of her at the time.

He didn't reply now, as she gazed at him steadily. "You weren't planning on telling me about her, were you," she said. It wasn't a question.

Cobb looked away from her unwavering gaze, uneasy. "No," he said simply.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not a problem anymore, Ariadne," he said. "The opposite. She could help us; she _wants _to help us... and she will."

"And you believe her?"

"Yes."

Ariadne fell silent for a moment. "Cobb," she said at last. "Are you sure you're not just seeing what you want to see?"

"Yes, I am." He didn't want to have this conversation right now. Not two days before the job.

"Because if she endangers the job again-"

"She won't."

Ariadne stared at him for a moment. "How is she going to help us?"

"She's dealt with militarized projections before, just like the rest of us have. She knows how to deal with them, and if she dies in the dream, it doesn't jeopardize the job," he said. "She can help us fight Fischer's projections, she can keep us safe. She will."

Ariadne frowned. "I still don't-"

"I know what I'm doing, Ariadne."

She hesitated, then finally gave in, nodding slowly. "Alright. But if there's ever any doubt in your mind, if you're ever not sure of anything, promise to come talk to me. I think that's one of the real reasons you called me about this job, Cobb. Deep down, you don't trust her, and you want someone to help you deal with her." She waited for Cobb to reply, but when he didn't say anything, she continued, reaching out and putting a hand on his wrist. "If anything happens during the eradication, I need you to let me know. Someone else needs to know."

Cobb nodded, her contact making him look up at her. "I promise."

They lapsed into silence again as they both watched the tv, neither of them actually paying attention. Finally, Ariadne broke the silence. "There's still one thing I don't understand."

"What?"

Ariadne leaned forward slightly. "Why are you here, Cobb? Why are you doing this job?"

He considered for a moment, watching her. After a pause, he also leaned forward slightly and said, "Because they have my children."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Cobb and Eames were in the middle of a dream the next day; the day before the Fischer job, sharing the dream merely for convenience's sake. Eames had wanted to test his projection of Maurice on someone else's subconscious, and Cobb had wanted to reassure himself that his projection of Mal would work with all of the members of the team.

Cobb was the dreamer, and he had built them an elegant passenger train that was winding through beautiful Scottish fields and moors. They awoke to reassure Arthur that everything had gone according to plan. Cobb left for his suite, for what was hopefully to be the last night in it.

Eames and Arthur were left alone in the meeting room, Ariadne being upstairs on the ninth floor like Cobb.

"So everything went well, then," Arthur said as he packed up the PASIV properly for the next day.

"Yes, yes, it was fine," said Eames distractedly. "My impression's done to perfection, as usual, though god knows how I was able to pull it off."

"Good to hear," Arthur said. "And Mal?"

"Different," Eames said. "I swear, she's the opposite of Cobb's original projection of her. But lovely, of course. Sweet, charming, smart. But there's just something about her, I dunno."

"Are you having second thoughts about having her on our team in Fischer's mind?"

"No..." Eames trailed off. "I don't know what it is. Just seeing the two of them together again, it makes me feel... uneasy."

"It's probably just making you realize how alone you really are, Eames."

One corner of Eames' mouth twitched up into a smile. "Probably, Arthur."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

It was later that evening that Eames went down to the hotel bar for a break to ease his tension. He ordered a drink and sat waiting for it to arrive. There was a game of football on the television behind the counter, and another tv beside it with poker on. He watched the two for a few moments, but he wasn't really paying attention. His thoughts were wandering, and for the first time in a long time, he felt alone. He pulled out his cell phone and played with it in his hands, considering making a call. There was no harm in just saying hello, in seeing how she was doing...

"Here's your drink, sir."

His beer was placed in front of him, and instead of dialling the number, he grabbed the drink. He told himself that she was fine. A phone call would just make her worry about him. He stared into the amber liquid, lost in his thoughts.

"Eames."

He looked up, startled, as Ariadne sat down beside him. She gestured to the bartender. "I'll have one, too, please."

He cleared his throat roughly, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Ariadne, what a lovely surprise. I thought you'd gone to bed for the night... Big day tomorrow."

"I couldn't sleep, I'm too worked up," she said. "So I thought I might come and find a distraction. You were looking pretty pensive. That's unusual."

He smiled. "I know, you think I'm so clever I never need to think."

"No, not smart enough to think," she replied, smiling back so he would know she was joking. He gave a short, rather forced laugh for her benefit, and took a swig of his beer as the bartender placed her's in front of her. She turned sideways to face him as he put his beer back down, her elbows on the counter. "So, what's on your mind?" she asked seriously.

"Nothing that would interest you."

"You never know. Besides, it's not like there's anything else to talk about. But only if you want to."

Eames sighed, puffing out his cheeks slightly, then shrugged. "Alright, then." He turned to face her, directing his attention off the televisions finally. "I miss my family."

Ariadne's eyes didn't waver. "They're the reason you're doing this job, aren't they," she said.

Eames blinked, looking down at his beer again. "Yeah."

"They blackmailed you, like they blackmailed Cobb," she said quietly. "You're not doing this for the money, you're doing this because you have to."

"Come on, Ariadne," Eames said. "You must have realized by now that none of us are doing this for the money. Neither Arthur or I would have agreed to re-enter Fischer's mind with Cobb if that had been our only incentive."

Ariadne frowned, her brows pulling together slightly in confusion. "Arthur?" she asked in confusion. He hadn't mentioned anything to her in the week or so.

"Oh," Eames said, seeming to stop mid-thought. "He didn't say anything to you, did he."

"Why is he doing this job, then? He told me he was doing a favour for Cobb."

Eames groaned. He drained his beer, looking back at Ariadne after a moment to find her still staring at him. "Oh, alright then dammit," he said, turning slightly to face her again. "But you didn't hear this from me, got it?"

About half an hour later, Ariadne had finished her beer and left the bar for the night, somewhat unsteadily. Eames stayed where she had left him, and felt himself beginning to get lost in his thoughts once more. His cell phone still lay on the counter from where he had dropped it earlier, and as he thought back to what Ariadne had been saying to him, he make a split-second decision. He picked up the phone and dialled the number.

A voice answered him on the other line, a woman in her mid-twenties that he hadn't seen in over five years, that he hadn't even talked to in at least four. "Hello?"

Eames took a breath, feeling it catch slightly in his throat at the familiar voice. "Hey, baby sister."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Not longer after Ariadne left Cobb's room the previous night, he had gone over to the desk in his room and sat down with stationary and a pen. He had written three letters, one to each of his children, and one to Miles and Marie. Now, as he lay on the bed in his suite the night before the eradication, he stared at those letters. Makin a decision, he picked them up and headed into the hallway. He knocked on Arthur's door and Arthur opened it a few quick seconds later.

"Cobb," he said, looking mildly surprised due to the late hour. "Come in."

Cobb shook his head. "No, that's alright. I just wanted to ask you a quick favour."

"Yeah?"

Cobb swallowed and handed the sealed envelope to Arthur. Inside were separate, smaller envelopes, each one of which was labelled.

"If anything happens, Arthur, I need you to deliver this to my family."

Arthur didn't take it. "Cobb, it won't come to that-"

"But just incase it does, Arthur," Cobb interrupted. "I know, like you said, it probably won't, but please, take them anyways. Just incase... promise me."

Arthur hesitated, then nodded, taking the envelope. "I promise."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

They were due to arrive at the Fischer-Morrow offices the next day at noon. Despite her late night at the bar with Eames, Ariadne had still been unable to sleep when she finally returned to her room. This left her not only tired the next morning, but also with a headache from the alcohol. She had finally dozed off around four thirty in the morning, and woke about two hours later from an uneasy, restless sleep.

Unable to fall back asleep, she had got up, had a shower and took a couple of aspirins for her head. Feeling better as she stood in the white bathroom now, drying her hair with a hotel blow-dryer, her thoughts went back to her conversation with Eames from the previous night. It had kept her awake all night as she had tried to sort out her emotions, understand her feelings and her possibilities. She had always known, always suspected it, but now that she finally _knew, _really knew... things were different.

Flicking the blow dryer off, she stared into her reflection in the mirror for a moment, before hurrying out of the bathroom. She didn't bother grabbing her jacket as she walked to the door, didn't bother putting shoes or even socks on, didn't bother checking the time because she didn't want to know how early it still was.

She reached the door to the adjoining room and unclasped the chain that locked her side of it. She knocked loudly, impatiently, and waited. After a long pause and the muffled noise of movement, she heard the chain on the other side of the door being unlocked, and Arthur opened the door.

He had apparently just woken up, as he had obviously hastily just gotten dressed at the sound of the knock. He didn't have his belt on, his shirt was untucked, he had no shoes or socks on like her, and the few buttons of his shirt he had managed to do up were buttoned crooked. But as he stood in front of her, his hair not yet back out of his face, looking confused and still half-asleep, she felt a sudden surge of something rush through her. She found her arms going around his neck, her chin going above his shoulder as she jumped up to reach his height. His arms went instinctively around her waist to prevent her from falling, and they stayed there for a long moment, her feet not touching the ground, her arms still tight around his neck. Finally, he let her down slowly, but she stayed close to him, her hands still resting on the front of his shirt, her eyes locked up on his.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He looked slightly more confused than he was already.

"Eames told me what you did," she said in explanation. "With Browning, for me. I'm so sorry you're having to do this."

The confusion left his face and he gave her a small smile, enough to bring out the dimples in his cheeks. "It's not all bad."

She sighed, finally looking away from him, her eyes going past him. "I'm... scared for the job, Arthur. I'm scared that something's going to happen to one of us." She realized, as soon as she had said it, that she had never admitted that before to anyone, not even during the inception.

But she had never been so close to someone on the team before. Not even Cobb. And she wasn't expecting Arthur to give her some miracle answer, some way of ridding all of her fears. Instead, what he told her was all the reassurance she needed to hear.

"I know," he said softly, then he leaned down slowly, and gently, questioningly, pressed his lips to hers.

She closed her eyes for a second before she responded to his touch. Her hands went up to the back of his neck, to his hair; his arms tightened around her waist once more. She reassured him that he wasn't moving too fast, and he tasted vaguely of spearmint, of toothpaste from hours ago.

This wasn't another stolen kiss like the one in the hotel lobby of the inception job. This one was something more, something meaningful, and she could feel that now. And for those few moments, she forgot about her fears, about her stress and her worries as she focused on him, and only him.

But there were still those few thoughts that clouded the back of her mind, the constant reminder of the dangers that they would be facing in Fischer's mind in a few short hours. A constant reminder that, in a few short hours from then, she might lose him.

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**I decided it was time to get the ball rolling on this story, so here we go now, things are finally set and beginning to get underway. I dunno if you liked the AriadnexArthur scenes or not... I wasn't sure whether it seemed forced, and how in character Ariadne seems. If you hated it, just tell me, and I'll make sure not to put any more in, but if you liked it, let me know and I'll add more scenes with them in. Please review, it helps so much! **

**~kat**


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note:** I'll keep this brief. Thanks so much to anyone who reviewed my last chapter (you know who you are), it means so much to me. And from your feedback, it looks like there will be a few more ArthurxAriadne scenes! Hope you enjoy!**

Diclaimer: **Inception is not mine. **

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**Chapter Seven**

They arrived at the Fisher-Morrow offices around noon, where they were met by Peter Browning and several other men, most of which were security personnel. They were escorted into a private room on the top floor from there. The door was locked behind them as they entered along with a dark-haired middle-aged woman in a pin-striped suit, four silent security guards and Browning. They found Fischer already there, asleep in a chair; sedated.

The room was quite luxurious, apparently a common room for the higher executives in the building. Various high backed, leather wing chairs adorned the room. Two sides of the room were made up by windows which overlooked the city, although there were deeply coloured, floor-length curtains pulled shut over those windows now. The other two walls were made up by a several bookcases, an electric fireplace, and a large trophy case that contained mainly framed photos, certificates, and the occasional award. A flat-screen television was hung in one of the corners and a full-sized pool table took up most of the side of the room farthest from the door.

Fischer was sitting, slumped in one of the leather winged chairs closest to the fireplace, a drink resting on a coffee table to his right. Cobb looked uneasily behind them at the closed, locked door. One of the guards had waited outside the room on the other side of the door, another staying by the door on the inside of the room.

"We're ready when you are," Browning said, looking at Cobb. "Robert doesn't suspect anything."

Cobb nodded, and he and Arthur headed over to Fischer. Arthur opened the PASIV on the coffee table by Fischer and began to prime it. Cobb dragged more chairs closer to the PASIV as Eames walked around the room casually, looking around. He picked up a cue from the rack on the wall beside the pool table and neatly broke with a well-aimed hit of the cue ball. Throughout this, Ariadne found herself painfully aware of Browning staring down at her from where she was standing beside him. Shifting uncomfortably, she walked over to Arthur, and sat on the edge of ones of the chairs Cobb had pulled over.

"He won't stop staring," she whispered quietly, so only he could hear.

Arthur glanced up briefly over at Browning, but didn't move his head or stop his work with the PASIV. "I know."

Eames walked over, interrupting them, "We ready, then?"

Arthur threw Eames a quick, sideways look. "Just about."

"Good," said Cobb, joining the rest of his team and beginning to roll up his sleeves. He turned to Browning who was still standing near the door. "Who will be managing the PASIV?"

The middle-aged woman stepped forward. "I will," she said.

Cobb nodded, looking her over. "Mr. Eames will brief you on what needs to be done while we're asleep," he said.

Eames stepped forward and escorted the woman to a quieter corner of the room, out of earshot of the rest of the team.

Cobb sat down on the chair beside Ariadne's and turned to face her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Are you sure you'll be alright down there?" he asked softly.

She nodded, "Yeah. I'll be fine. Will you?"

Cobb was painfully aware of Arthur kneeling within earshot, unwinding the IV lines to the PASIV, his eyes on both of them, suspicious. Cobb nodded, "Yeah, don't worry about me."

"Alright, we're all set," Arthur said after a pause, raising his voice enough so that Eames heard him as well. Eames began to make his way back over slowly, still talking to the woman as Arthur shrugged off his jacket and began to roll up one of the sleeves of his shirt. Cobb gently inserted one of the lines into Fischer's wrist as Eames, too, took off his dinner jacket and shoved up his own sleeve.

Arthur handed out the IV lines to everyone, taking a seat on the other side of Ariadne. Everyone inserted the needles into their wrists in silence as the woman stood behind the PASIV, waiting for the signal.

Browning stepped forward. "Cobb," he said. "If you complete this job... I hope there won't be any hard feelings."

Cobb paused, before giving Browning a rather strained smile. "Of course not."

Browning seemed to miss the hard tone to Cobb's voice, as he returned the smile. "Good. I trust I don't need to remind you of the implications if you fail."

Cobb leaned back in his chair, and looked from Browning to the woman. "Don't forget the music," he said, gesturing at Ariadne, whose eyes weren't on his, but on the point man's. The woman nodded. Cobb glanced around at his team and at Fischer to double check everything, before saying to the woman, "Alright, we're ready."

"Oh, and Cobb?" Browning stepped forward again as the woman pressed down the injection button with a hiss. Cobb's eyes flicked back to Browning momentarily before the chemicals took effect. "Good luck."

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

They were in two separate cars, driving along the streets of New York again. This time, however, it wasn't raining, but a dry rather gloomy day. Cobb picked Ariadne up from the curb and she hopped in the car quickly.

"Where are the others?" she asked, looking for Arthur and Eames.

"They've already headed off to set the explosives," Cobb replied. "We need to find Fischer."

They sped down the busy streets through the crowded traffic, Cobb heading for the spot that Fischer had been started in the inception job.

"There he is," Ariadne said, pointing through the windshield as she finally spotted the figure. "He's getting into a Mercedes."

"Good," Cobb said. "Let me know when to shoot."

Ariadne nodded, her eyes on the chauffeured car Fischer was in. Cobb pulled their car in behind the Mercedes at a traffic light, ignoring the honk of the car he cut off. He glanced at the mirror and saw the driver in the car behind them flipping him off.

They drove behind the car for a minute or so, before it finally turned right onto a new street.

"There's a subway station about three blocks down from here," Ariadne said.

"Alright," Cobb said, pulling his Beretta out and balancing it on his knee, his eyes still on Fischer's car a little ways ahead of them. There was another traffic light at the end of the block they were on, and as they pulled to a stop to wait for the light, he quickly leaned out the window and fired a well-aimed shot into the back, left-hand tyre of the Mercedes. Ariadne surveyed the other drivers around them, but although they all looked around in alarm at the sound of the shot, it seemed that none of them had been quick enough to spot the gun or suspect Cobb just yet.

The light turned green, and as the other cars took off again, the Mercedes followed them for a moment before braking on the other side of the intersection and pulling to the side of the road as the driver became aware of the tyre. Cobb stopped behind the car as he waited for a break in the traffic in the other lane so he could drive around the Mercedes. Ariadne carefully watched Fischer and the chauffeur as he did so.

The driver was getting out, swearing, and although she couldn't see Fischer's expression, she saw him run a hand through his hair in the backseat, aggravated.

"The driver should call for a cab for Fischer once he sees his tyre," Cobb said, his eyes also on the driver as he walked around his taxi to survey the damage. There was a gap in the cars in the lane beside them, and he quickly pulled into it and drove around the Mercedes. As they passed it, Ariadne caught sight of another man, sitting in the front passenger seat in front of Fischer. He was dressed smartly and his dark eyes were flicking around the street suspiciously.

"There's another man in the car with them," Ariadne breathed to Cobb, her eyes still on the man.

"He's most likely Fischer's security guard," Cobb said. "We'll handle him later."

Cobb turned right down another street, and then made another right the first time he could, before making a final right and pulling up on the side of the street that joined the original one, a couple of blocks in front of where they had blown out the Mercedes' tyre.

"Keep your eyes open for a taxi," he said.

They sat there and watched the cars driving by, one after another and the moments ticked by. Ariadne could feel an itch starting as the silence pressed down on them, the cars continuing to drive by without the one they were looking for. She caught sight of a car parked behind them. A man got out and walked into the building they were parked next to, but another man stayed in the car to wait for the other. She noticed his eyes on her in the rearview mirror, and she froze when she noticed him frowning slightly at her, looking confused.

"Cobb," she whispered.

Cobb's eyes flicked up also to the rearview mirror, and he muttered back, "It's okay, he's just a little confused by our presence. Fischer hasn't really begun to suspect yet."

Ariadne nodded in silence, her eyes not leaving the man's.

Suddenly Cobb sat up straight, his foot going to the pedal. "There it is," he said, as he shot their car forward into the street in front of them. It effectively blocked the lane the yellow taxi was in, heading to pick up Fischer. The taxi driver, leaning on the horn, slammed on the brakes soon enough so that they didn't crash, but the cab's bumper did none the less dent the side of their car.

Cobb jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind him, a furious expression taking over his features.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ariadne heard him yell as he walked up to the cab driver, who seemed even angrier than him. She watched the driver roll down her window, the woman's angry yells mixing with Cobb's. But then Cobb leaned into the window, revealing his Beretta to the driver, his voice quieter now so Ariadne couldn't hear him as he spoke now. Fear overtook the angry expression on the driver's face as Cobb talked. There was a pause, then the driver hurriedly slid across the seat and out the passenger door, hastily making her way down the street away from Cobb, breaking into a run as she did so, staring back over her shoulder at Cobb.

Cobb watched the driver go, then gestured to Ariadne and she quickly jumped out of their car and got into the driver's seat of the taxi.

"I've got your back," Cobb said, leaning into the taxi through the window once more to talk to her. "Just get him into that subway."

She nodded, and he straightened, walked back to their car and got into it. He then backed onto the side street once more, clearing the lane for her. She pulled forward, and he pulled in behind her, watching her back just as he had promised.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Fischer got into her taxi, unconcerned, albeit annoyed as he glanced at her. He frowned at her in confusion for a split-second before dismissing whatever faded recognition he had of her. They had decided on her being the cab driver as they had hoped that she would be one he would be least likely to consciously recognize from the inception. Memories tended to be the strongest the higher the level of the dream, so as he had been in contact with her the least on the first level of the inception dream, she should be the least familiar to him. This was crucial so they could keep his projections off them for longer; the longer they were able to go without his subconscious realizing his mind was being breached. Fischer's security man got into the front seat beside her, and her heart stopped for a moment as he glanced her over carefully as she pressed on the gas. Like Fischer, though, he seemed to dismiss her quickly enough, his eyes going back to the road.

Ariadne pulled up to a stop light and glanced at Fischer in the backseat of the taxi. "There's an accident further on down the street with a couple of tractor trailers, so you can expect a bit of a delay."

Fischer looked up, his annoyance mounting higher than it was already. "What? How long?"

"An hour, maybe two-"

"Two hours?I have a meeting in forty-five minutes and I was right on time until the last driver blew a tyre."

"I'm sorry, there isn't anything I can do."

"Can you not take a different route?" Fischer demanded.

"Everything's blocked off for construction or probably equally jammed," she said, sounding apologetic. "How important is it that you get to this meeting?"

Fischer ran a hand stressfully through his hair again, his attention going back to his cell phone temporarily. "Pretty damn important."

"We're right by a subway station," she said. "That could probably get you to where you're going in about twenty minutes."

He glanced up again from his phone. "Twenty minutes?"

She shrugged. "Thirty, tops. Whatever you want, I'm happy driving you if you don't mind being late."

He sighed, his vivid blue eyes on the street outside, on the entrance to the subway station about fifty feet down the sidewalk from where they were sitting now, crammed between cars in every direction. He didn't move for several long moments, before letting his hands fall again, banging them against the seat as he let out his breath. "Alright!" he said. "Alright, fine." His eyes flicked to his security guard's, and it seemed to somewhat comfort him as he leaned forward and handed Ariadne a few bills. "Keep the change, we'll get out here."

The security man nodded, stepping out of the taxi and opening Fischer's door for him. Fischer got out, his cell phone already to his ear and his briefcase in his hand. Ariadne watched them walk down the busy sidewalk towards the entrance to the subway station. Once they were out of sight down the staircase to the subway, she jumped out of the taxi as well.

Cobb was already waiting for her on the sidewalk, his car left idling in the traffic jam. She left the taxi similarly as she hurried over to join him.

"He take it okay?" Cobb asked.

"Yeah, he was in a hurry."

Cobb nodded, "Good. Come on."

She followed him after Fischer down the sidewalk to the subway station.

A few minutes later, they were standing in the crowded underground waiting platform. Ariadne spotted Fischer standing on the other side of the platform by his security man, frowning, the phone still to his ear. She felt Cobb move beside her, and she saw Arthur and Eames making their way over to the two of them.

"How did it go?" Cobb asked.

"Well," Arthur said.

"A few little slip ups here and there, but I had them well-managed," Eames said. "Fischer's still not onto us then?"

"No," Cobb said.

Ariadne looked over at Arthur, but he was still focussed on Cobb and didn't meet her eyes. Her eyes flicked over to Eames' face and saw that he hadn't missed her staring at the Arthur. She looked away before he could say anything. She could hear a subway car entering the tunnel as everyone began to move closer to the track.

It pulled up and a dozen people or so piled out of the car and Ariadne watched as Fischer got into the car near the front of the subway. They all hurried onto the car at the back of the subway.

Cobb was last to get on, his eyes still on the platform to ensure Fischer didn't get off the subway before it pulled away. "He's on, Dom," he heard a voice say quietly behind him, and turned to find his wife standing behind him. She was dressed in a knee-length beige button-up coat with a small yellow-patterned silk scarf around her neck. She pushed him forward onto the car gently as the doors started to close. "Come on."

He found the others' eyes on him and Mal as the subway began to move.

"Everything went according to plan?" Mal asked, her voice slightly more authoritative now as she addressed the rest of the team.

"Yeah, everything's in order," Eames said.

Mal nodded her approval. Arthur looked down at Ariadne beside him and saw her eyes locked on Mal's. Remembering his various experiences with Cobb's projection of his wife in the past, he gently took her hand to remind her he was there.

"Everyone knows what to do," Cobb said. "Ariadne, you're with me."

They nodded, each of them pulling black balaclavas from a bag Arthur pulled out from under one of the subway seats. None of them put them on just yet, though. Instead, they made their way up the subway, through the other cars until they were behind the one Fischer was in.

"Everyone ready?" Cobb asked quietly. They all nodded and pulled on their balaclavas, effectively grabbing the alarmed attention of all of the projections in the car. "Good luck," Cobb said, before barging into Fischer's subway car with his gun up, closely followed by the rest of them.

"Everyone put their hands up!" Ariadne heard Mal yell as the car erupted into chaos as people began screaming. She hurried behind Cobb towards the front car as Arthur, Mal, and Eames began yanking people up out of their seats and directing them to the back cars of the subway, their guns up and ready the whole time. She caught a glimpse of Fischer briefly before her attention was diverted elsewhere.

Cobb burst into the front car, Ariadne right behind him. "Everybody stand up!" he shouted, his gun pointing at various people in turn. Like in the previous car, people began to scream as they hurried to do what he said. He directed them into the car behind them where the rest of their team was, shoving at a few of them.

In under thirty seconds, the front car was empty as all of its passengers were also being handled by Mal, Arthur, and Eames. The front part of this car was blocked off for the conductor and Cobb was preparing to force his way into the cubicle when it opened of its own accord and the conductor hurried out.

"What the hell is going on?" the conductor, an elderly man with a wrinkled face and pepper and salt flecked hair demanded. In his hands, he had a gun which he had up and pointing at them.

"Drop your weapon," Cobb said.

It struck Ariadne as odd that the conductor would have a gun, but she reminded herself that this was Fischer's subconscious and many of his projections would be armed. That was the main reason they had opted to hijack Fischer on a subway this time round; they had decided it was one of the safest options for them. A moving subway train that his militarized projections wouldn't be able to follow him onto once they realized his mind was being infiltrated.

Cobb swung his gun up and fired a round at the conductor, narrowly missing his head and shoulder. "Now!" Cobb yelled. "I said drop it right now!"

The conductor jumped as the bullet shot over his shoulder and dropped the gun, though whether he had done it accidentally or intentionally, Ariadne wasn't sure. "Take it easy!"

Cobb grabbed him roughly by the upper arm and shoved him towards the other cars. "Did you send a distress signal?"

"Yes."

"Will this train stop if no one's there to man it?"

"No."

"Good. Get with the other passengers and don't try anything," Cobb said, shoving the conductor forward with the butt end of his Beretta pressed into the small of the man's back. "Take him to the back car with the others," Cobb told Ariadne. "I'm going to double-check the train's controls."

She nodded, and walked the conductor back down the cars, her gun trained on him the whole time. She was glad her face was mostly covered by the balaclava, mainly so that Fischer wouldn't recognize them, but also so that her facial expressions wouldn't betray how inexperienced she was to his projections.

They found nobody in the first few cars they walked through, but near the back they came across everyone else. Arthur, Eames, and Mal were still pushing people further and further back down the subway, crowding them together. Ariadne looked to Arthur for direction as she walked into the chaos with the conductor, but it was Mal that saw her first. She grabbed the conductor and pushed him roughly into the crowd of people. Ariadne stood back slightly, her gun held loosely at her side as she watched the others do their job. She searched for Fischer, but couldn't find him. This wasn't too surprising though, considering the number of people in the cramped space.

Finally, everyone was collected in the final back car of the subway. Looking around, Ariadne guessed there to be around seventy-five people crammed into that one car. It was utter chaos as people yelled, hurrying around, looking for friends or family. She finally spotted Fischer, sitting on a chair by himself along one side of the subway. He was holding his briefcase tightly, staring straight at her intensely with his blue eyes. Arthur moved over to stand by her, diverting her eyes from Fischer's temporarily.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly so that the other passengers wouldn't be able to hear.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Just a little unnerved, that's all."

"I know," he said. "Try to remember though, they're just projections."

She nodded.

Eames stood up on the closest chair, firing a shot into the ceiling of the subway. Some people screamed in fright before the car fell silent.

"Right, all of you listen up!" Eames yelled as Arthur began moving quietly down the isle of the car, towards Fischer."We're not going to hurt any of you unless you don't cooperate. If any of you move from this car, if any of you try to get out, if any of you do _anything_, we won't hesitate to shoot you or anyone who gets in the way. But if you all sit here quietly while we do what we need to do, then we'll let you all home to your families and no one will be any the worse for wear. That's the arrangement."

Arthur pulled Fischer to his feet and guided him back towards the front of the car with the barrel of his gun pressed firmly into Fischer's back. Fischer panicked slightly, fighting Arthur at first until he became aware of the gun at his back and he stilled, following Arthur's direction. Ariadne became aware of Fischer's eyes, still on her. Eames got down from the chair and stayed to the side, watching the passengers carefully, his gun still trailing on them as the rest of the team left the car with Fischer.

They headed back up to the front of the subway through the cars once more, planning to go under in the conductor's car. Fischer struggled a few times, muttering various threats about his security and insurance, but Arthur just moved his Glock to the back of Fischer's head and muttered, "Shut it."

They found Cobb in the front subway car, just immerging from the conductor's cubicle with the PASIV in one hand and some fabric in the other. "Everything seems to be in order," Cobb said. "I've flicked some of the switches around to make sure that the train will continue automatically and not stop anywhere for anything."

"Good," Mal said quietly.

Ariadne nodded. If the subway couldn't stop, Fischer's militarized projections wouldn't be able to get on. Arthur and Eames had placed explosives in the track quite a bit further on along a bridge. They had the detonator to explode it once they were close enough so it would act as a kick.

"What are you going to do?" Fischer asked. In answer, Cobb stepped forward and pulled the fabric, which turned out to be a bag similar to the one they had used in the inception, over his head. Fischer struggled for a moment before he went slack. Cobb caught him as his knees buckled and let him slide gently to the floor. Ariadne realized the bag must have been saturated with some type sedative or drug.

Cobb, Arthur and Mal pulled their balaclavas off and Ariadne quickly followed suite as Cobb and Mal both kneeled down by Fischer. They began to prep him for another dream level, and as both their attentions were diverted, she felt Arthur's arms go around her. She hugged him back briefly, breathing in his scent, before he stepped back before Cobb could look up.

"That went better than I thought it would," Arthur said quietly. "I thought Fischer would have some kind of security with him."

There was a pause as Ariadne registered his words, then she felt her eyes widen slightly as she remembered. "He had a security guard," she breathed. Arthur's eyes narrowed in confusion, as did Mal's when Cobb's head snapped up at her words.

"I saw him get on with Fischer," Ariadne continued hastily. "He must still be on the subway, in the back car with the others. We couldn't have missed him unless he was somewhere in that crowd."

"He would be fully armed," Cobb said quietly.

They was a beat of silence as they all stared at one another, before Arthur finally said it.

"Eames doesn't know."

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**I hope this chapter isn't too much like the movie. As you can probably tell, there aren't subways where I live and I haven't been on one since I was about four years old, so needless to say, my account of them is probably not the most realistic. Hopefully those two factors didn't take away from the story too much, though. Sorry about the cliffhanger. Please let me know what you think! **

**~kat**


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: **Bit of a shorter chapter this time, so I'm updating a little earlier to make up for it somewhat. Just as a warning, I've changed the rating of the story to T for this chapter. Nothing too serious, but hopefully that doesn't bother anyone. Let me know if it does. Thanks to everyone who's read or reviewed. Hope you enjoy!**

Disclaimer: **Inception isn't mine.**

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**Chapter Eight**

Cobb spotted the passengers when he was a couple of cars away. Eames was sliding the door shut to block off the back car where all the passengers sat, watching him, scared. There wasn't anything alarming to the situation at first, but as Cobb watched he spotted a man in the car behind Eames walking towards the almost-shut door, his hand going to the inside of his coat...

"Eames! Duck!" Cobb yelled as he neared the car, bringing up his Beretta as he sprinted.

Eames didn't even glance back at Cobb's voice as he instinctively threw himself out of the way. The gunfire ripped through the spot he had been a millisecond later. Screams broke out through the back car again as not one, but five militarized projections barged through the nearly closed door between the cars. Cobb recognized one of them as Fischer's security guard before he was forced to dive behind a block of subway seats for cover.

Arthur, Ariadne and Mal did similarly, Ariadne and Mal ducking back into the adjoining car for cover. A few of the projections focussed on Eames, lying between a gap in the seats and perfectly within their range.

Cobb nailed one projection immediately between the eyes from across the car and the projection dropped like a stone, temporarily distracting the other projections. Simultaneously, a bullet from Arthur's gun narrowly missed another man. The projections were forced to throw themselves behind seats for protection from Arthur and Cobb's fire, allowing Eames to right himself and get his gun up, no longer within their immediate range.

Cobb continue firing shots in the projections' direction but was forced back behind the seats as the projectors retaliated. One bullet missed his right shoulder by an inch, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Across the aisle, Arthur was also ducking down behind the seats and back up to shoot periodically as Eames took down a second projection from behind.

In the adjoining car, Mal pushed past Ariadne to have a clear shot at the projections around the door frame. Fischer's initial bodyguard spotted her and aimed, but hesitated for a split second as he saw her. That was all she needed and her bullet clipped him in the side, sending him down. His yells mingled with those of the of the passengers crammed in the other car where the door was still open.

Eames popped up over the seat for a clear shot at the projection crouching a row in front of him, peppering the seats Cobb was behind with gunfire. As Eames was exposed, the final projection also raised himself slightly from across the aisle. He aimed and fired just as Eames shot the other projection from close range. The man's bullet missed Eames by an inch, instead hitting the top of the seat and the wall of the car, causing plastic splinters to shoot up from the top of the seat. One of them cut into Eames' cheek at the same time as Arthur took the projection out before he could fire again with a well-aimed shot from across the car.

There was a long beat of silence as the gunfire ceased and everyone realized that they had gotten all the projections. The quiet seemed abnormal as the ringing of the gunfire stayed in their ears for several moments.

Finally, Eames broke the silence to swear quietly, seemingly realizing the cut in his cheek, his hand going to his face. Cobb stood, hurrying over to finish closing the door to the passengers' car. Arthur breathed in relief, sinking to his knees from his crouched position to reload his gun. His eyes went to Mal and Ariadne as they hurried into the car to join the rest of the team, Mal going over to check Eames at the other end of the car.

Ariadne felt her knees weaken, and she sank into a seat across the aisle from where Arthur was kneeling.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah." She looked over at Eames and Mal. "Is Eames alright?"

"He'll be fine, I don't think it's too deep," Arthur replied, also looking over at the two. He gave her a small reassuring smile. "He's probably just milking it for Mal."

Ariadne smiled slightly weakly as Cobb finally fully blocked off the passenger's car from the rest of the subway and joined Mal to check Eames. Her eyes drifted down as she thought of Fischer still in the conductor's car and her gaze landed on his security guard. She saw him struggling on the floor of the subway, partially hidden in the gap between the floor and the underside of the seats, and she realized with a jolt of her stomach that he wasn't fully dead yet. One of his hands was stemming the flow of blood from his side, but the other was still holding his gun as he struggled to lift it as he lay, sprawled out, still beneath the seats.

"Cobb! The body guard!" she yelled at Cobb from across the car as the projection continued struggling to raise the gun high enough to aim at anything.

Cobb wheeled around, looking for the projection, but before he could spot him, a shot rang out and suddenly Arthur was falling to his side from his kneeling position, screaming as the bullet blew out his leg. There was another shot as Cobb shot a final bullet into the security guard's skull, then Ariadne found herself scrambling out of her seat and over to Arthur's side. Her hands fluttered around, not knowing what to do in panic as blood spurted from Arthur's leg and his breaths began to come in gasps of pain.

Cobb was kneeling beside her in an instant. "Thank god, it's just his leg," he muttered in relief as he pushed her out of the way so he could assess his partner. For a moment, he found the peculiar similarities of the extraction job they had performed on Saito when Mal had shot Arthur and what was happening now strike him. He shoved the coincidence from his mind, ripping the bullet whole in Arthur's pant leg open so that the injury was fully exposed. He looked up as Eames hurried over. "Eames, help me move him into the aisle."

Eames nodded, nudging Ariadne out of the way. She stepped back and watched as he and Cobb dragged Arthur as quickly and gently as they could away from the subway seats and into the aisle of the car where there was more room.

"His kneecap's shattered," Cobb said quickly, still assessing the damage. "Judging by the amount of blood, it's gone straight through the main artery. We need to stop the bleeding."

Eames nodded, shrugging off his jacket hastily and beginning to rip it into strips. Mal hurried past them. "I'll go finish getting Fischer ready and set up the PASIV for the rest of you," she said.

Cobb nodded, not looking up. "Ariadne, I'm going to need you to hold him still."

She nodded, trembling a little, and knelt down beside them, putting a hand on either side of Arthur's shoulders. She could feel him starting to shake slightly, his eyes somewhat panicked and unfocused. Eames seemed to hesitate, looking at her, before moving to her side.

"Here, I've got him," he said softly, looking at her reassuringly. "It'll be fine."

She nodded, not meeting his eyes, her breath catching in her throat slightly. Unsure of what to do now, she moved to Arthur's head as Eames took up her position more firmly.

"Are you gonna try to get the bullet out?" Eames asked.

"No. Hopefully we'll only be on this level for a few hours, so he'll be fine so long as we can stop the bleeding. I'll just wrap his leg for now and see how it holds up."

Eames nodded his assent as Cobb picked up a strip torn from Eames' jacket. He folded it over several times then placed it over the bloody mass of Arthur's knee to hopefully absorb much of the blood. He grabbed another strip and wrapped it gently around overtop the make-shay bandage and around the joint. He overlapped the two ends of the cloth loosely, then looked up at Ariadne hesitantly.

"This is going to hurt him," he warned her. She hesitated then nodded, her hands going to either side of Arthur's head instinctively.

Cobb wrenched the ends of the cloth together as hard as he could in one swift movement. Arthur yelled out in pain, struggling, but Eames held him still until Cobb finished tying the ends of the strip together. Finishing, Cobb rocked back on his ankles, wiping the blood from his hands on the remains of Eames' jacket. "That should keep the pressure on while we're asleep," he told Ariadne. "I don't think we'll be able to elevate his knee much, so that'll have to do. If you have to, tie a tourniquet around his leg, but only if the bleeding doesn't stop and only if you're really worried. Do you know how to make one?"

She nodded, not moving from Arthur, wiping the sweat from his forehead gently with one hand. She looked down at him and saw his eyes focussing briefly on her before he looked away again, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Eames leant back, his eyes going to the passenger's car uneasily. "Shall we move him now?"

At Cobb's nod, Eames leant forward again and tapped Arthur gently on the cheek to get his attention. As Arthur's eyes centered on him he said, "Do you reckon you can hop at all, love?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment then managed a nod, and Ariadne watched as Cobb and Eames each grasped one of Arthur's arms and pulled him into an upright position. They each pulled an arm around their shoulders.

Cobb saw Arthur's jaw tighten as his knee was jostled slightly, but other than that he didn't say anything. Cobb looked down at Ariadne, still kneeling on the floor. "Ariadne, you'll need to get the doors for us."

She nodded, hastening to her feet to pull the first door to the next car open for them. Cobb looked back one last time to check on the passengers, before he and Eames began to help Arthur slowly down the aisle, taking care not to move his injured leg too much. It was slightly unnerving as they made their way precariously over the gap between the cars, whizzing past a station as they went. The wind whipped at Cobb's hair and he focussed on making it the step into the next car and then they were through the doorway and into the safety of the next car.

It was slow going, but they finally made it to the front car of the subway. They set Arthur down gently on the ground next to Fischer leaning against the bottom of a seat, and Ariadne hurriedly closed the door to the car behind them. She sat down next to Arthur, looking at him carefully. He looked paler than before and his forehead was slick with sweat again, but his eyes still met her's briefly as she sat next to him, his breath coming quick and shallow.

Mal was still busy with the PASIV, now pulling out IV lines for the rest of them. Eames paced around the car and wiped a drop of blood from his cheek, something clearly on his mind. He finally turned to Cobb.

"Do you know how his leg's going to be, next level down?"

"It should be fine," Cobb replied steadily, but his eyes didn't meet Eames'.

"It _should_ be, but you don't know for sure, do you?" Eames said. "They blew out his kneecap; how do you know he'll still be able to walk alright in the next level? We're depending on him to protect us down there while we're in the third level."

"I know, but it should be fine," Cobb repeated.

"But what if it isn't?" Eames insisted. "You don't know anything for sure. Saito was still feeling the effects down there during the inception."

"But not at first he wasn't," Cobb replied, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Arthur should be fine long enough for us to finish the job in the third level. Saito was shot in the chest, it was completely different. We'll just have to be quicker."

"If he can't even walk in the next level, he won't be able to do a bloody thing. We'll be like sitting ducks down there, except we'll be asleep!" Eames yelled, his anger starting to bubble over.

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" Cobb shouted back, his anger matching the other man's, closing the distance between them.

Eames took a calming breath, his eyes moving to where Ariadne was sitting. Beside her, Arthur was watching their conversation, and his eyes met Arthur's for a moment, before he flicked his attention back to Cobb. "You be the dreamer," he said.

There was a beat, then, "Are you crazy?" Mal said softly behind him.

Cobb's eyes didn't move from his. "I can't."

"Why the hell not? You know the hotel level somewhat from before, you know all of the rooms Fischer in. He's already remembering the inception from this level, and once I dream the third level, just like the inception and just like the plan, that should be all he'll need. Two levels down, Arthur's leg should be less problematic, and he should be able to do your job and guide Fischer into the vault, whereas we don't know how he would be one level down."

Cobb raked his hands through his hair in frustration. "It's too risky to be changing everything this far in. I don't _know_ the level!"

"You know enough!" Eames snapped back.

Mal shook her head. "Dom, this is madness."

Cobb looked over to Arthur for reassurance. "You're not for this, are you? You've never been that far down in the dream."

Arthur shook his head, his face pinched together. "Let's just go for it," he said, his voice strained.

"And I'll brief Arthur on the level," Eames added urgently, seeing the argument beginning to turn in his direction.

"Dom," Mal warned again. "Please, let's stick to the plan."

"Shut up!" Eames yelled, suddenly turning on her. "Of course you want to stick to the plan, you're _his_ subconscious and you're just telling him what he wants to hear!"

Cobb looked at his wife, his face betraying the first hint of uncertainty.

Ariadne spoke up quietly, looking at Arthur beside her. "You said yourself in the inception, Cobb. The pain will be less intense the deeper the level. I agree with Eames; it's safest if you're the dreamer for the next level."

And then, for the first time, Cobb's anger exploded directly at her. "Of course you're going to side with Arthur!" he shouted. "Eames was right from the beginning wasn't he? All that you're saying now is what your emotions are telling you! You two, I should never have let anything happen between you, it's jeopardizing everything!"

Ariadne narrowed her eyes, her anger rising as well. "_You _shouldn't have _let_ anything happen? As if that would have made any difference! You're not the only one who has a say in this job! It's our lives that you've put in danger as well as your own, so I have just as much say as you. I know exactly what I'm saying, so mind your own damn business. You can do it, Cobb, it's just _you_ that's afraid and _your _emotions that are talking."

Cobb stared at her for a moment, then his anger seemed to ebb slightly. "I don't know if I can do it," he said quietly.

She continued to look at him evenly. "Yes, you can. Because if you don't, you'll never know for sure whether or not you'll see your kids again. This is our best bet."

Cobb stared at her for a moment, before he finally threw his hands up. "Fine!" he snapped. "Alright, fine! But if anything goes wrong, don't pit it on me."

"Sure, of course not," said Eames quickly, relieved. He sat down in a subway seat by the PASIV, taking an IV line from Mal.

Cobb walked over to him and sat down as well, injecting a different needle from the device into his wrist. "And if I don't see my children again, Mr. Eames, I'm holding you accountable for this plan."

Eames didn't look away from Cobb's challenging gaze. "Fair enough."

Mal lay down, connecting herself to the PASIV as well. "You'll be alright, you know exactly what to do?" she asked Ariadne.

"Yeah," Ariadne said. "Good luck."

Eames cleared his throat, looking at Ariadne with a half-smile, attempting to lighten the mood before they went under. "So it that it, then?" he said. "There's no chance of you and me then?"

"Go to sleep, Mr. Eames," Ariadne said, echoing those words Arthur had said so long ago.

Cobb closed his eyes. "Don't forget the music," he said.

Ariadne grabbed an IV line for Arthur and inserted it into his wrist gently. His eyes were still slightly glazed over, but they nevertheless met her's when she looked up at him. "Be careful," she started, but Eames interrupted her.

"Just shut up and press the button," he said.

Ariadne smiled slightly. "Sweet dreams," she said, then with a hiss of the PASIV, they were asleep and she was left alone in the subway car.

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**Liked it, hated it? Please drop me a review and let me know what you think! Next chapter should be longer, it just seemed like a good cut-off place for this one. Thanks for reading!**

**~kat**


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: **Hey, I just wanted to wish any of you who are reading this a happy thanksgiving! (I dunno if you celebrate it or not, but I hope you have a great day regardless.) I also wanted to thank Kitty Quasar yet again for your amazing long and detailed reviews. I look forward to them so much. **

Disclaimer: **I know you know it, but I'll say it anyways. Inception isn't mine.**

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**Cha****pter Nine**

Eames was sitting at a stool in the hotel bar, the same as the last time. He glanced down at himself in a quick double-check, and sure enough he was projecting the same lovely blonde from the inception job, down to the very same uncomfortable, tight dress. And, just like in the inception job, Fischer was sitting at the bar to his left again, fingering a drink, his eyes unfocussed. Without waiting a beat, Eames spoke, projecting his voice as the same woman's from before.

"Am I boring you?" he asked.

Fischer glanced up at him, then looked away again.

"I was telling you my story," Eames continued, repeating the conversation from his memory of the inception. "I guess it wasn't to your liking."

He surveyed Fisher carefully as the other man cleared his throat, bringing his thoughts back to the 'woman' sitting beside him, and he felt a flicker of satisfaction as he saw a slightly stirring of recognition at the back of Fischer's eyes. "Uh... sorry." Fischer gave him the trace of an apologetic smile before his attention was lost again and he automatically repeated the words from his memory: "I have a lot on my mind." Subconsciously, he was remembering.

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Arthur was sitting on the bench in the lobby once more, much of the pain in his leg gone. His sense of calm had returned, bringing with it only the ghost reminder of the injury through the occasional twinging in his knee, brought on undoubtedly by the jolting of the subway car on the level above. Other than that though, there were very little unnatural disturbances like the ones they had experienced from Yusuf's driving. The hotel looking nearly identical to the one from the inception, the differences between the two small and hard to notice to anyone other than him or Ariadne. Cobb had done a good job.

He saw Cobb walking down the lobby, and stood, making his way down to join the other, only barely-noticably limping.

Cobb nodded to him. "The explosives?"

"They'll be in the room below 825," Arthur said. "The level second from the top, unless you've changed the layout accidentally."

"Alright. See you in a bit."

Arthur turned and headed for the hotel bar as Cobb made his way to the elevators. He found Fisher sitting at the bar with a beautiful blonde beside him, making the best of the little conversation he was offering her. Assuming the woman was Eames, Arthur made his way over and slid onto the stool on the other side of Fischer. They had planned for Cobb and Arthur to switch roles in this level so that Fischer's subconscious wouldn't zero in on Cobb, as they most likely would have done if Cobb had played Mr. Charles again. If Cobb had stepped into the bar, Fischer's subconscious would have ripped him apart from Fischer's memory of him before they'd had the chance to get what they needed done. Although Fischer most likely would recognize Arthur eventually from the very same level in the inception, it hopefully wouldn't be until it was too late for his security to help him.

Arthur leant forward around Fischer, a vile of sedative held hidden in his palm. "Excuse me," he said to Eames. "Do you mind passing the nuts?"

The blonde's eyebrows rose slightly, unimpressed. "Of course," she said, reaching for bowl on her other side and sliding them towards Arthur.

"Thank you," Arthur said. "I don't suppose you'd tell me whether you're enjoying your drink? I can't seem to decide on what to order."

"No, I'm not," the blonde said pointedly.

"Oh, well maybe you have a suggestion?" Arthur pressed.

Fischer looked up at Arthur, annoyance clear on his features. "Excuse me, do you mind?"

Arthur put up a hand. "My apologies."

Fischer looked away again, his hands still around his drink.

"As I was saying," the blonde began, but Arthur interrupted once more.

"I'm sorry-"

"What?" Fischer snapped, looking up.

"The chips." Arthur pointed apologetically.

Fischer turned and grabbed the bowl on the other side of the blonde angrily, banging it down loudly in front of Arthur before pointedly turning his back. Only Eames saw Arthur slip the sedative quickly and smoothly into the remains of Fischer's drink during the split-second he was reaching for the chips.

"I'll leave you alone, then," Arthur said, sounding slightly offended.

"That would be appreciated."

Arthur got up and left, making his way to a side of the bar where he could still see Eames and Fischer.

Eames watched him go, shaking his head annoyance for Fischer's sake. He leant in closer. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

Fischer looked up at him once more. "Uh, no, thanks. Not tonight, anyways."

"Oh, please," Eames said, smiling a little. "Not even one drink in my room?"

"No, thank you," Fischer repeated.

Eames raised an eyebrow. "It'll help get your mind off whatever's been bothering you."

Fischer's eyes flicked up to meet the blonde's, then he let out his breath in a sigh. "Alright. You have a point, I'll give you that. One drink."

Eames nodded, smiling and got up. "Oh, wait, let me finish this drink," he said quickly as Fischer stood up as well. He lifted the remains of the drink. "To... tonight."

Fischer clinked his glass briefly, then reluctantly finished his own drink as Eames downed his. Eames guessed that the sedative would take another fifteen minutes or so to begin to take effect, so he led the way to the elevators in the lobby. He continued to drawl mindless chatter to Fischer as they rode up to the top floor, then made their way down the hallway into room 825.

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Arthur watched the blonde leave with Fischer, and saw a pair of Fischer's projections follow them casually out of the bar. Guard raised, he walked after them down the hallway back to the lobby and watched as Fischer and Eames got into an elevator. The projections stopped outside the elevators. They talked to one another once or twice over the course of a couple of minutes or so, then one of them pushed the Up button to call an elevator. The projections were joined by another, then the three men got into the elevator as the doors finally opened. Arthur watched until the doors shut once more and the elevator began to rise, then bolted for the side stairwell. Banging open the doors, he sprinted up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. About halfway up he had to pause to catch his breath. One hand on the railway, bent over slightly, he could feel the throbbing in his knee beginning to become more pronounced. Fighting the urge to check if it the wound had re-opened, he continued to make his way up to the top floor.

Finally reaching the top, he paused to get his breathing under control then opened the doors and made his way into the hallway of the hotel. Peering around the corner cautiously, he spotted the projections standing near Eames' room, talking quietly in the hallway. They were all fairly young, strong men, each dressed in a dark suit and more than likely armed.

Arthur swore quietly, then made his way back into the stairwell, pulling out his cell phone. Eames answered after three buzzes.

"What is it?" Eames hissed, putting as much venom as he could into the blonde's voice.

"Are you within Fischer's eat shot?"

"I went into the bathroom. Where are you?"

"We cant go under in your room," Arthur said quickly. "The projections are already outside your door; the room's too similar to the inception. Cobb won't be able to protect for any longer than a couple minutes, tops, if they're already suspecting us this early on."

"How the hell are they onto us so soon?"

"I don't know; Fischer's subconscious must have abetter memory than we thought. We need to go somewhere the projections won't suspect."

There was a beat of silence, then Eames said, "Alright, I'm going to take him down into the woman's changing room by the pool. The militarized projections are all men, so hopefully that should give us at least five minutes on it's own after they think of checking there before they finally barge in anyways."

"Alright," Arthur agreed. "I'll let Cobb know."

"Good. You'll need to deal with the projections outside our room, too."

"Okay, I'll meet you down there in five minutes."

"Fine. Have you seen Mal?"

"I think she's with Cobb."

"Fair enough," Eames said. "See you in a bit." He hung up.

Arthur shoved his own phone back into his pocket, then checked his Glock and held it ready. He pressed an ear to the door of the stairwell, straining his ears to listen. Finally, after maybe a minute and a half, he made out the blonde's voice on the other side of the doors.

"No, of course no one will be swimming at this hour. Just relax, I have a key to get us in."

Arthur made out the ding as the elevator doors opened and shut. He took a breath, pausing for a beat, then shoved the stairwell door open, his gun raised. The projections were making their way down the hallway to follow Eames and Fischer down in the elevators.

He took two of them down within the first couple of seconds before they could get their guns out, but was forced to dodge back into the stairwell for cover as the third had his up by this point. Arthur pressed himself to the wall beside the door, out of immediate view if the projection were to open the doors. He stood still and began to count, waiting.

Fifty-two seconds had passed before the projection finally gave in waiting for him to come out. The doors were slammed open, and the man jumped into the stairwell, firing at random. Arthur nailed him in the side of the head before he even spotted him.

Making his way back down the stairwell, he phoned Cobb to let him know of the change of plans. Cobb hung up quickly, hurrying to reposition the charges beneath the pool instead, and Arthur picked up his pace. About halfway down one of the sets of stairs around the fifth level, he felt his knee abruptly give-out and he fell forward, hitting the banister hard. He managed to grab onto it to prevent himself from falling down the rest of the stairs, but he still hit his side against the railing and the breath was knocked out of him. He didn't move for a moment, still clutching the banister, winded, his heart pounding. Swearing under his breath, he finally stood back up, his ribs aching where he'd hit the railing, and continued running down the stairwell, more slowly now. By the time he had reached the bottom of the stairwell several minutes later, his leg was really beginning to bother him.

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Cobb shoved his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hastily began to strip the charges off the ceiling and back into the bag he'd found them in. He made his way down to the basement of the hotel to check where the pool was. Memorizing its location, he made his way to the level below; the sub-basement. There was a key required in the elevator to go that low, but he picked the lock fairly easily.

The sub-basement was fairly obviously meant only for workers, as he could tell immediately by the change in luxury from the rest of the hotel. The space underneath the pool was pretty much a crawl space, but there was more room underneath the woman's changing room in what turned out to be a furnace room.

He made his way between the huge furnaces, setting the charges to the low ceiling as he had before in the hotel room at the top floor. Carefully putting the detonator in his inside pocket, he hurried from the room after activating all the charges. Stepped out of the furnace room, he was closing the door tightly behind him when he spotted a worker at the far end of the hallway.

"Hey!" the man yelled, but Cobb shot him before he could do anything else. He crumpled to the floor, and Cobb hastily walked over to him. He grabbed the body under the arms and dragged him into a closet to the right. He shut the closet door, hoping the projections wouldn't find him until the team had already been found out.

He turned and ran down the hallway back to the elevators before he ran into any other projections. Waiting for the elevator was hell, but it finally arrived and he stepped into it before anyone else spotted him.

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"I've told you, I'm nowhere near about to go swimming."

Eames knew he was really pushing Fischer now. They were standing in the hallway on the basement level outside the glass wall that showed into the huge salt-water pool on the other side.

"It's closed anyway," Fischer continued, the annoyance clear in his voice now. "I'm going back to my room."

"Wait," Eames said quickly, catching Fischer's arm. "Please don't go."

"I've had enough, get away from me," Fischer said as he turned back to him, swaying slightly as the sedative finally began to take effect. Cobb and Arthur appeared at the end of the hallway at the same time, and started to make their way over to him; Arthur holding the PASIV in one hand. Fischer's eyes rolled into his head and he began to fall back. Eames morphed back into himself at the same time as he caught Fischer to prevent him from hurting himself.

Cobb immediately kicked the door to the women's changing room open. No one was in it as the pool was closed, and he quickly flicked on the lights before turning to help Eames carry Fischer in. The elevator doors dinged halfway down the hallway and two projections stepped out. They spotted Fischer and reached for their guns at the same time, but Arthur shot both of them before they could fire.

"We have to hurry," Cobb muttered. He grabbed Fischer's legs as Eames grabbed his arms and they carried him into the changing room. Arthur ran over to the projections by the elevator and grabbed one by his legs. He dragged him down the hallway and into the changing room after Fischer, Cobb dragging in the second one after him. Eames grabbed the PASIV from where Arthur had dropped it in the hallway, before closing and locking the door behind them.

The room was quite large, with the main changing area and the bathroom off to one side along with the showers, several large closets, lockers and another smaller changing area.

Arthur sank onto the nearest bench to take the weight off his leg as Eames began to drag the two projections hurriedly out of sight into one of the bathroom cubicles. "My god, that dress is awful to do anything in," he complained. "I don't know how women do it."

"I thought you made a very convincing lady, Eames," Arthur replied.

"Where's Mal?" Cobb suddenly asked urgently, looking around. "I thought she was with one of you two."

Eames met Arthur's briefly, his hearts sinking. "We thought she was with you."

Cobb swore, sinking down onto a bench as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, thinking hard.

Arthur checked his watch for time, then hurriedly stood up and limped over to Fischer. "We don't have time for this, Cobb." He knelt down and pulled the PASIV to him and began to prime it as Eames made his way back into the main changing area.

Finally, Cobb spoke. "She must not have been able to go under properly with the PASIV. That was the same with Fischer's projection of Browning, wasn't it?"

None of them spoke.

Finally, Eames changed the topic, walking over to Arthur. "Not here," he said. "Let's go under somewhere at least initially out of sight incase anyone comes in."

Arthur nodded his assent, and helped Eames carry Fischer into the shower area. The tiles were slightly slippery and their shoes squeaked. "What, did you want to hide him behind a curtain or something?" Arthur asked, glancing around at the individual showers.

"I'm not bloody going under in a shower with you," Eames muttered back. "This should be fine."

Arthur nodded. He made to walk back to Cobb, but his leg suddenly gave out un-expectantly again. Eames grabbed his shoulder to prevent him from falling. "Just as well you weren't the dreamer then," Eames said, helping him down onto the floor.

Cobb came in then, the PASIV in his hand. He knelt down beside Fischer and inserted an IV line into his wrist. He handed one each to Eames and Arthur. "Are you ready?"

Eames lay down with a nod, rolling up his sleeve enough to insert the needle and grimacing as he made contact with the damp tiles. "Best of luck," he said.

"Cobb," said Arthur forcefully as Cobb opened the PASIV and checked all of the controls over. He looked up to see that they were all ready.

"What?"

"Tell us where Mal is."

Cobb looked down at the PASIV again, not meeting Arthur's eyes. "I don't know," he said, then pressed the button and they were asleep.

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Ariadne sat on a seat of the subway, rocking back and forth with the jolting to the car. About five minutes had passed, a little more than an hour and a half the next level down, and apart from the rattling of the train, it was completely silent. The sleepers were lying spread out all around her, but she had never felt so completely alone.

She got up and walked to the front of the car and looked out the window. Her stomach felt sick with worry as she watched the scenery speeding by in front of her. The door to the conductor's cubicle was ajar to her side, and she stepped in, looking for something to occupy her mind more than anything. Controls beeped all around her, but what drew her attention was a radio to the side. There was a voice coming through it.

"_We've received your distress call, subway train 0491. Emergency measures are being taken."_

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**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and please drop me a review to let me know what you think!  
><strong>**~kat**


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: **I kinda left this chapter until last minute, so it took forever to write and therefore it's slightly less edited. My apologies, I take full accountability for all the mistakes I've undoubtlessly made. Regardless, please read, I hope you'll enjoy!**

Disclaimer: **Inception's rights don't belong to me.**

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**Chapter Ten**

They were standing at the top of the same snow-covered mountain as before, looking down at the medial centre from a long way away. The snow and the wind billowed around them, making it hard to see or hear anything. But doing his best to see through his ski goggles, Eames found everything to be exactly the same as in the inception; Fischer's subconscious had remembered.

"Why am I back here? How is this possible?"

Eames felt his heart drop slightly at the sound of Fischer's aggressive words. Their plan had been to allow Fischer's projections to take Fischer back inside the safety of their guarded complex and then follow him inside. But now they would have to change everything because Fischer had remembered too much; he'd remembered everything. He would think he was in Browning's mind as he had before, and he would think his projections were targeting him, not just the others.

"Relax, Mr. Fischer, relax," Eames said quickly, putting a hand on Fischer's arm. He looked to Arthur, but Arthur was distracted, taking in all of the aspects of the dream scape. "Do you remember me?"

Fischer's eyes focussed on his face for a moment, then he nodded. "You're with Mr. Charles." His eyes flicked briefly to Arthur, and he frowned for a moment as he tried to place the less-familiar face. "You both are. Where is he? What's happening?"

"You don't remember?" Eames said, his voice raised over the wind. "When you were here last time, what you found in Browning's mind was actually what he wanted you to find. It was what he planted there for you to discover, an idea he wanted you to have. Do you remember any of this?"

Fischer shook his head, his face slightly angry with confusion.

"Short-term memory loss can be a side-effect for people unaccustomed to dream-sharing," Arthur lied quickly, raising his voice as well.

"You're saying he planted an- an _inception_ in my mind?" Fischer asked. "Is that even possible?"

"Apparently," Eames said. "But that's why you're back under again, you remember? You wanted to find the truth, the _real_ truth this time, that Browning's been hiding from you."

Fischer nodded, licking his lips nervously, quick to accept the truth from what he assumed were his own projections. "Where are Mr. Charles and the others?"

"Those projections died the last time we were here, Browning's subconscious killed them. You have to listen to us, now, Mr. Fischer; we're the only ones left."

Fischer nodded again, looking more uneasy. "Alright, what's the plan?"

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Eames had been quick to brief them both on the layout of the level, but it took longer for Eames and Arthur to come up with a new plan. All the while they were talking amongst themselves, Fischer's eyes were on them, suspicious. They decided Eames' job would be similar to the inception; to divert the projections away from the complex and then double back and meet them there. Meanwhile, Arthur and Fisher would rappell their way down the side of the mountain as Fischer and Saito had initially unsuccessfully attempted to do. It was a longer, though safer route, and it out of sight of the projections so out of Eames' way and worries, as well. The last thing they wanted was for anything to happen to Fischer like it had in the inception.

Arthur was quick to brief Fischer on the rest of their plan as they began to make their way down the face of the mountain. They didn't want to risk cutting through the ventilation again as it would be more heavily guarded, as Fischer's projections would remember their route through there from the inception.

Meanwhile, Eames took a more direct route to the medical centre. He didn't bother trying the flare again; he knew the projections wouldn't fall for it this time. He skied down to a thicket of trees as close as he dared to the complex before sliding to a stop and diving to his stomach before he could be spotted. Taking out his sniper, he positioned it, feeling the freezing snow against his chin as he lay flat-out, camouflaged in the snow, picking a target.

"Alright, I'm ready," he muttered into the intercom and heard a muffled reply from Arthur of their positioning. It would probably take them a couple of hours to make their way down into the complex.

Cutting off the feed-back from the walkie talkie, Eames focussed once more on his sniper. A carefully aimed shot brought the first projection down at the top of the south tower. The bullet hit him between the eyes and he couldn't call out as he was killed instantly. No one saw him. Eames quickly continued, picking off projections easily in the more remote spots where they weren't in immediate sight of the others. Finally though, one bullet wasn't perfectly aimed and the impact caused the victim to topple forward over the railing of one of the towers. He yelled as he fell before hitting the ground and remaining motionless. All around, men were turning in alarm, yelling to one another. Eames swore quietly, burrowing deeper within the snow as he saw the snipers going to their guns to survey the area. His shots went faster now, less carefully as he hurriedly took out the snipers before they could spot him. He saw men suddenly gesturing at one another frantically, and about half of them jumped onto their skidoos and jeeps, taking off towards him. A few bullets suddenly peppered the snow and trees around him, but he was too well protected for any to make contact. Spotting the opposing sniper, he easily shot the man down before hastily checking for anymore of them he hadn't taken out. The few remaining projections could certainly just pick up the guns, but he was ready to risk that they wouldn't be able to aim them well enough to be a serious threat.

Satisfied with his work, he stood up hurriedly as the mixture of armed vehicles and skiers drew closer, nearly within range. He turned and took off away from them, down the mountain, skiing in and out between the trees, leading them away from the complex and away from Fischer.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Cobb sank back on his heels in relief as Arthur and Eames went under. Despite what he had told the others, he knew Mal was in the hotel somewhere and he needed to find her. He didn't know what was happening, and the fact that he just _didn't know_ what was happening to her was what was scaring him the most.

He checked the sleepers a last time, then left the shower area and exited the change room through the main area. He checked the door to make sure it was locked, then hesitated, not sure what to do. There were three possibilities. Either Mal hadn't been able to go under with them and hadn't followed him down of her own accord (which he doubted), or else she had been gunned down or detained by Fischer's projections (which he also doubted, seeing as she didn't seem to ever draw the fire from any projections during dream-sharing). He didn't want to consider his final option, but when it all boiled down, it was what he realized he had to contemplate: that Mal had turned her back on them.

The hallway was deserted. None of the projections knew where Fischer was, and the sleepers wouldn't be found until the rooms in this hallway were searched for them. Undecided, Cobb stood outside the door to the change-room, torn between staying near the dreamers and wanting to check room 825 to verify Mal wasn't waiting for them up there.

He heard a door at the far end of the hallway by the elevators open, and turned to see a young girl with long blonde hair pressing the button to call the elevator. With a jolt of his stomach, Cobb recognized Philippa. But he didn't understand what that could mean.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Arthur and Fischer continued along the face of the mountain, making their way down now as they neared the complex. Arthur guessed it had taken them at least a couple of hours to reach where they had now, and his arms were aching as a result of the exertion from the rapelling. On the other hand though, his knee only twinged occasionally as he was able to allow his other leg to do most of the work, the majority of his weight being held by the cable attached to his waist. He glanced down at Fischer below him to check how he was faring.

"Why can't we just go in the way we did last time?" Fischer yelled up at him, drained and fed-up. Arthur didn't bother to reply as they continued making their way down.

He could see the medical centre below them, all of the projections' attention diverted on searching for Eames. None of them were expecting anyone to enter the hospital from behind along the cliff face. They had nearly made it.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Ariadne hurriedly picked up the radio, searching for the talk button. "This is subway train 0491," she stuttered quickly, her voice slightly higher than usual. "Uh, apologies, that was a mistaken emergency call. Everything's fine."

There was a slightly crackling at the other end, before a man's voice continued. _"This is subway train 0491?"_

"Y-yes."

"_Which conductor is this?"_

"Mallorie Brookes," she said the first name that popped into her head. "I'm new."

There was a pause at the other end. _"We don't have you listed under this subway train number, Mallorie," _the man said. _"What's your identification number?"_

Ariadne felt her heart sink slightly. "I haven't gotten one yet."

"_We're going to have to ask you to stop the train at the next station, Mallorie." _the voice said. _"If you fail to do so, an automatic stop will occur. Emergency measures are once again being taken."_

The line went dead. Ariadne stared at the radio blankly for a moment, then panic hit her. She checked her watch. It would be another three or four minutes before they hit the track where the explosives were and there would be probably be two more stops before they reached there.

She turned and sprinted from the cubicle, past the sleepers, back down all of the cars until she reached the back one, sprinting to get there before they reached the next stop. She burst in, her gun raised, out of breath.

"Where's the conductor?" she shouted, and the car fell silent.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Eames was exhausted from skiing. He had lost sight of the projections nearly ten minutes ago, but he could still hear the constant sound of the jeeps and skidoos behind him. They were still on his trail, which he had to remind himself was a good thing.

He dropped an explosive as he skied, the fifth he had dropped so far. He'd been leaving a trail of them in the snow as he'd gone along, a hope that they would deter the projections once he set them off and headed back to the fortress.

He threw a timed explosive down the hill and then took a sharp turn behind a small ravine where the snow somewhat hid him from sight. As the sound of his skis on the snow and the rush of wind in his ears faded he made out Arthur's voice hastily coming in through his walkie talkie.

"_Eames. _Are you there?"

"Yeah," he said quickly. "Yeah, I'm here, what is it?"

"We're just about in. You need to get back, now. Are you near by?"

A jeep and several skiers suddenly whirred past him, following his trail. His most recent explosive went off, causing a small avalanche of snow further down the mountain. The projections headed for it, yelling at one another. Several skidoos followed along with another jeep.

"I lost track of time," Eames replied. "I'll be there."

"Good luck."

Eames shut the device off again, then focussed as several more skidoos drove past him, unknowing. He spotted one further up the hill, trailing the others slightly. Seeing his luck and remembering how easily he had done it in the inception, he braced himself, timing it carefully.

He jumped out slightly too early this time and the skidoo nearly hit him. The driver swerved instinctively, before realizing who he was and doubling around, raising his gun. Eames shot him once and he fell from the skidoo. The skidoo barrelled into a snow bank and whirred to a stop. The projection made to get up, but Eames jumped on him before he could, a well-aimed punch to the side of the head knocking the driver out.

Looking around for more projections, Eames couldn't spot any above them and assumed that this driver was the last in line of the convoy. Hastily dragging the driver over to the skidoo, he swapped outer clothing with the unconscious man, disguising himself temporarily as a part of the small army. He knew the other projections would be able to sense it if they looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, but for at least the start, it might give him an edge.

He checked the skidoo over, and although it was damaged from hitting the snowbank, it seemed temporarily able to work alright. Gunning it back to the complex, he glanced back over his shoulder at the projections searching the mountain below him. He pressed one of the detonators, and one of the explosives he had dropped went off. It had rolled down the mountain a good way from where he had dropped it, and to his relief he saw the convoy heading for the explosion. He had been worried that they wouldn't fall for it again, but it seemed Fischer's subconscious wasn't as smart as many gave it credit for.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Arthur hurried Fischer into the complex through an unguarded back door. The projections hadn't assumed anyone would be able to get in that way, and seeing as they were once again missing the majority of their army, they had left that area of the fortress unguarded.

"Go, go," Arthur muttered as they rushed inside. He reached for his intercom. "Eames, are you in?"

"Yeah, just about," Eames voice came back. "I need another couple of minutes or so. Is Fischer safe?"

"Yeah, he's here. Hurry."

"I have been."

Arthur picked up the unmistakable annoyance in Eames' voice before he switched his intercom off. Fischer's eyes were on him when he looked up.

"What're we doing? We're inside now, what're we waiting for?" Fischer demanded.

"He's just clearing our route," Arthur replied. "The projections will be guarding the safe; he's taking care of them."

Fischer nodded, but he still didn't look entirely at ease.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

"Hey! Philippa!" Cobb called as the doors to the elevator opened. He ran down the hallway as Philippa stepped into the elevator, not looking back at him. The doors began to close and he full-out sprinted to close the gap between him and the elevator as Philippa didn't hold the door. He managed to slip through them just as they shut. He grabbed the girl's arm, panting, but when she wheeled around in surprise he didn't recognize the face. It wasn't his daughter.

"_Oui, monsieur?" _She didn't even speak English.

Cobb stared at her blankly for a moment, before hastily letting go of her arm. _"Pardon."_

She backed away from him quickly and the ride up to the eighth floor was agony as she stared at him wide-eyed all the way up. She stepped out and hurried down the hallway away from him, glancing back at him frequently as he, too, stepped out on that level. He did his best to ignore her and made his way to room 825. Grasping hold of the door handle, he took a breath and muttered a silent prayer before shoving the door open.

The room was completely empty of anyone or anything unusual. "Mal?" He stepped in and checked the bathroom and walk-in closet to make sure. No one was there. Gritting his teeth, he made his way back to the elevators outside. As he waited for the lift to arrive, he saw the door to a room open and the same girl poke her head out. She saw him and hastily shut the door again, retreating back into the room. A second later, the door opened once more and a tall, blond man stepped out.

"Hey!"the man called as Cobb hastily stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. The man reached for something inside his jacket, but before he could even touch it Cobb had shot him down with one well-aimed bullet. The ding of the doors beginning to shut mixed with the sound of the girl's scream from inside the room. A half dozen projections came charging around a corner and out of various rooms at the sound of the shot, all with their weapons raised, but before either they or Cobb could fire the elevator doors shut completely and he was going down.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Eames set off the second detonator as his skidoo pulled up close to the complex. The explosive he had originally left in the thicket of trees went off and he saw many of the remaining projections yelling to one another uneasily, their minds diverted temporarily from the soul skidoo that had just pulled up. The rest of their men were all too far away to come back to immediately help, so in the end, a third of the remaining men headed off rapidly to check out the explosion.

Eames used the chaos to run for the steel rung ladder nearly the middle of the fortress. He hastily began to climb it, heading up to the level where he knew Fischer's safe was.

There were only a few projections walking around the outside ledge leading into the room, but as he scrambled onto it off the ladder, they all simultaneously focussed on him, bringing their guns up.

He lunged at one of them before the man could shoot, punching him, but the man rolled on top of him, getting the advantage. He felt the man's fist make contact with his cheek, splitting his lip as gunshots rang out from the other projections. They rained down around him, only narrowly missing. One making contact with the man on top of him and he went slack.

Not immediately pushing the man off him, Eames grabbed for his gun, continuing to use the body as a shield. He managed to bring the weapon up and shot the second projection as he finally shoved the first's weight off of himself.

The third projection was busy on his radio, backing away hastily from Eames as he continued talking into the intercom. "The intruder's made his way into the complex. Immediate back-up, repeat–"

Eames brought the butt-end of his rifle up and hit the man hard. The man fell back over the railing to the ground below, and Eames didn't check to see what happened as he turned and hurriedly made his way indoors. He was already preparing to forge himself into Maurice as he entered the room to Fischer's vault, so he didn't spot the final projection making his way around from the opposite side of the ledge after him.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Slightly shaken, unable to rid his head of the image of the young girl, Cobb checked his watch, calculating. It had been nearly twelve minutes now since the sleepers had gone under, which would have given them approximately four hours the next level down. The projections would be after him now, but they didn't know where the sleepers were. They wouldn't know what floor he was going to... unless the girl told them what level he might be going back to. Then his head snapped up as he remembered a final factor. Mal knew everything he knew, which meant if she had indeed turned on them, she would know exactly where to find the Fisher, Eames and Arthur, helpless while they were asleep. Perhaps that little girl hadn't been as much of a coincidence as he thought. He jabbed impatiently at the level to the basement, urging the elevator to speed up but it did the opposite. It slid to a stop on level one, and when the doors dinged open Cobb found himself face to face with a dozen of Fischer's projections.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

**Another chapter up and done! I find the snow level I wrote to be a lot more similar to the movie, and I'm sorry for that, I just found it hard to add more variety to that level. But anyway, I really hope you enjoyed reading, and I would absolutely love to hear from you!**

**~kat**


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: **I hope you enjoy this chapter, it has a bit of a darker feel to it in my opinion. ****Thank you so much Kitty Quasar, as usual. You're lovely. **

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

**Chapter Eleven**

Ariadne hurried back to the front car of the subway, gun trained on the conductor all the way, telling him periodically to speed up. Finally reaching the car, the conductor stared in confusion at the sleepers as she rushed him past them.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"Nothing that concerns you," Ariadne replied, as firmly as she could. She sat him down in the conductor's cubicle and stood just outside the crowded space by the open door for more room. She levelled her gun at his head carefully, trying to control her trembling hands.

"Radio in," she instructed him as he looked up at her with an unimpressed expression. "Tell them that everything is fine; tell them to lift their emergency measures."

He didn't waiver, didn't even consider her. "No."

She blinked, shifting her weight uneasily. "I'll shoot."

"Then shoot me."

She stared at him, taken aback. "This is your last chance."

"Shoot me."

The gun went off with a bang that echoed all the way through the tiny cubicle. The bullet shot through the conductor's shoulder and he screamed out involuntarily. Ariadne lowered the gun, gasping at her actions, then forced herself to raise it again.

"Now!" she yelled over his wheezing. "Tell them now!"

The conductor didn't do anything, didn't even acknowledge her words as he clung to his shoulder, leaning forward in his seat, his eyes squeezed shut.

"I said _now_!" Ariadne aimed to fire the second bullet into his other shoulder, but instead the bullet hit the man in the chest. This time, it caused him to collapse off his seat and to the ground at the impact.

The ringing of the shot echoed in Ariadne's ears for a second as she stared down at the conductor where he lay, motionless on the floor of the cubicle. Slowly, so slowly, she bent down and rolled him onto his back. She felt her stomach churn the moment she saw the gun-shot wound to his chest. Her eyes gradually crept up from the wound where the bullet had entered the elderly man's heart, up to rest on his blank, unseeing eyes.

She heard, rather than felt herself cry out as she blindly stumbled back from the conductor's body. Her knees gave out as she hit the wall on the opposite side of the aisle from the cubicle, and she slid down the wall to rest on the floor there, her legs spread out in front of her, as the full implications of what she had done hit her.

She had killed projections before in dreams, certainly, but somehow they seemed different. The elderly conductor hadn't been a militarized projection, in fact for all extensive purposes, he'd just been an ordinary man. An ordinary man who hadn't done what she'd wanted, and so who she'd killed unarmed in cold blood. And now, once again, her only plan was destroyed and the dream level was in danger of being demolished as they drew ever nearer to the next subway stop.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

The projections seemed somewhat taken aback to see Cobb, so they were slow in raising their guns. Cobb took this to his advantage, instinctively barrelling through the crowd of men and diving for the emergency stairwell to the side just as the gunfire erupted behind him.

Knowing he only had a few seconds before the projections charged through the doors behind him as he sprinted from it, he grasped the banister beside him with one hand and used his momentum to jump. Swinging his legs up and over the railing in one smooth action, he let go of the banister behind him and felt the familiar rushing sensation. He concentrated hard for the brief fall to fight the sensation of the miniature kick, then felt the pain ricochet up his knees, spine, and the balls of his feet as he hit the cement of the stairs on the level below. He stumbled forward, off balance and nearly fell down the last few stairs before the door marked B. He managed to barge through the door just before he heard the projections above him bang open the door on the main level. Hopefully they hadn't seen if he'd gone up or down the level, and half would go each way.

Shaking off the aching in the balls his feet, he sprinted down the deserted hallway for the change room to the pool. But as he burst through the changing room door, breaking the lock in the process, he already knew he was too late, that Mal was already there.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Arthur and Fischer had been hiding in a dark, shadowed cranny in the hallway of the medical centre beside a stairwell for the better part of fifteen minutes before Eames finally gave them the all-go. Only a couple of projections had walked past them in the time they had been waiting. Luckily, the projections hadn't spotted them as they had both been immersed in a conversation on their walkie-talkies as they had run past the hiding spot.

Arthur hustled Fisher into the stairwell before him and hurried him up the steps to the tower above them where the vault was.

"We didn't take such an out-in-the-open route last time," Fischer complained to him in a low, panting voice on the way up. "It was a whole lot safer then."

"Yeah, well, not this time it's not," Arthur muttered back, doing his best to hide his growing annoyance.

They reached the top and Arthur stepped out onto the floor first, gun raised as he checked for any projections in the room. Finding it deserted, he motioned Fischer in.

"You remember this?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah," Fischer nodded, looking behind them to where the familiar ventilation grate was situated. He pointed to the sealed door at the end of the grey room. "That's the vault," he said unnecessarily. "And what was originally there is in it this time? Not what Uncle Peter put there?"

"Yeah." Arthur pressed his intercom. "Eames?"

"Ready," came the muffled reply.

Arthur nodded to Fischer. "Okay, go, go. I'm going to set the explosives. You should be safe. The projections shouldn't be able to get in there."

Fischer nodded, and headed slowly for the sealed doors at the end of the room. He hesitated as he reached it, then pressed the numbers he remembered, 528491, into the number lock. With a familiar hiss the doors snapped unlocked and slid open. The same room sat before him, the walls, ceiling, and floor all made up of the same black tiles as before. Once again, a hospital bed sat at the end of the room, a bookshelf behind it, a safe and cabinet beside it. He didn't have to look to know that it was his father lying in the bed.

"Hey, Dad," he whispered softly, stepping forward into the vault.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Arthur watched from across the grey room as Fischer stepped through the doors. He checked around a final time as the doors to the vault slowly began to hiss shut. His eyes rested on the smashed, floor-length window to the ledge outside where Eames had gotten in. Something seemed... off, and it had immediately raised his guard as he stared at the broken window. Suddenly, a single projection burst through it, gun up and firing at random. Arthur dove behind a metal trolley for cover, fumbling as he attempted to bring his Glock up. The projection didn't focus on him though, his gun raised as he began instead to ceaselessly shoot rounds towards the vault doors as they finished closing.

"Fisher!" Arthur shouted out as the man continued firing at the door, when suddenly a shout rang out from inside the vault.

"_No!"_

It was Fischer's voice.

His gun finally ready, Arthur popped up over the top of the trolley, nailing the projection with two bullets before he could even attempt a retaliation. The projection fell to the ground at the same time as there doors to the vault finally locked with a dull thud. Arthur stared at the closed vault door blankly, knowing that on the other side of it, at least one of the bullets had hit its target.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Ariadne gave herself all of five seconds to remain where she was on the floor of the subway before panic struck her again, causing her to scramble hurriedly to her feet. She stumbled into the conductor's cabin once more, moving around the body on the floor, searching for something that might help her. She looked up through the window at the track speeding by in front of her. She could see a bridge approaching at the end of the tunnel they were in, and in the design of her level, directly beyond the bridge was the next subway station. Her searching becoming frantic now, her eyes finally landed on the lever she'd been looking for. _Emergency stop._

It was the brake.

(0xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0)

Cobb spotted his wife's figure as he sprinted around the corner to the showers. She was standing above the three dreamers, her berretta trained on Fischer's sleeping form.

"Mal, no!" Cobb yelled as he ran forward, using his momentum to throw himself at his wife before she could shoot either Fischer or him. There was a loud shot as he hit her hard in the ribs and shoulder, sending them both crashing to the slippery tiles. The bullet hit the wall several feet above and to the side of Fischer's head.

Cobb's head smashed against the tiles as he hit the floor, followed by a sickening, numbing pain as his skull registered the impact. Mal landed unharmed on top of him as his vision went suddenly white and clouded from the hit. His thoughts temporarily blocked, he couldn't react as Mal got up off him. He vaguely felt her patting him down, felt her hand inside his suit as she took his weapons, barely registering through the nauseating headache that her gun was trained on him now.

"Get up, Dom," she said softly. She bent down and grasped his upper arm to help him to his feet as his breath crept back slowly along with his vision. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit him as the blood rushed to his head however. It caused him to double over again, a hand going to the back of his head at the place of impact.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What should have happened a long time ago," she replied.

He swallowed, staring up at her. "You didn't change after all. Despite everything you said, everything you did."

She narrowed her eyes. "Of course I didn't change. You just wanted to think I did. How could I let everything that happened go so easily?"

She took his arm again and led him back into the main changing area and sat him down on a bench, her fingers lingering briefly on his own hands before she stepped back. She stayed standing in front of him, the gun trained on him once more.

"It was your projections that have been trying to ruin this job," Cobb said. "Not just Fischer's. That little French girl and her father, the similarities between those two and me and Philippa wasn't a coincidence. The projection that shot Arthur in the knee, the similarity there between that shot and the one you fired during the Saito extraction. That wasn't a coincidence either."

"Of course it wasn't. Neither of them were. But they're weren't my projections, Dom, they were your's. I'm still fighting you, which means that one part of your subconscious is still fighting you as well. That one part of your mind still wants this job to fail."

Cobb leant forward, gripping his hair, and let out an uncontrolled, muffled yell of frustration from between his teeth. "But why the charade?" he demanded at last, his head snapping up again despite the pounding in it. "Why all of this until now?"

"Because this is the only chance I have to talk to you," Mal said, sitting down beside him on the bench, one hand going to his cheek, the other still firmly holding the berretta on the other side of her. "I need you to understand, darling."

"I thought you finally understood."

"I understood perfectly; I still do. But it's not me we're talking about anymore. It's James and Philippa."

There was a pause as Cobb stared at her. "What?" he whispered.

"You left them. How could you do that? You left them once. You left them by themselves. You left them where they may have never seen their mother or father again. And then when you finally came back, you deserted them. You left our children _again_."

"None of that was my choice, you know that!" Cobb snapped. "How can you blame me for that? What was I supposed to do? What was I _ever_ supposed to do?"

"More than what you did!" Mal yelled. "More than what you ever even _tried_ to do!"

"Well then what the hell do you want me to do?" Cobb shouted, standing up, ignoring the gun Mal had levelled at him. "What the hell are you trying to fix right now? What's your plan? Why don't you want me to go back to our kids? What_ the hell_ is the matter with you?"

"You don't deserve them," Mal whispered softly. "You don't deserve to even see our children again. Not after what you did, what you're doing right now. How could you go back to dream sharing again, after everything that happened? And how can you expect James and Philippa not to follow your lead if they grow up around you? Our children aren't going to go into the same profession we did, Dom."

"I don't want that any more than you," Cobb replied, lowering his voice as well with difficulty. "I never wanted that."

"It doesn't matter," Mal said. "They're growing up, and already that world is all they know. And that's because of you and me."

"If I don't complete this job they'll take our kids from their future anyway."

"I don't want you to only fail though," Mal said. "I want you to stay here with me. There's no point in Fischer-Morrow punishing you if you aren't there to take the punishment. James and Philippa will be fine so long as you don't wake up. They'll grow up with their grandparents, while you and I will be down below, together. That's how it was always meant to be."

"Your dad is no better than me."

"My dad is a damn side better than you are right now!" Mal yelled, his eyes reddening.

Cobb paced away from her angrily, needing to move despite insistent throbbing of his head. "You're just my subconscious," he muttered, half to himself and half to his wife. "You're just telling me what you know I'm scared of, feeding on my worries."

Mal shook her head slowly at him. "No, Dom. I'm your wife. I'm the part of her that's still alive inside of you." She stood up and made her way over to him, tucking the berretta into her belt and taking his hands gently in her's. "I'm the only part of your wife that's still alive."

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The subway took a good while to stop as the brakes screeched, fighting the train as it was forced to unceremoniously stop. Finally, the subway ceased moving near the end of the bridge, and for the first time in what felt like hours, but probably hadn't even been forty-five minutes, the whirring of the train stopped in Ariadne's ears. The sudden silence seemed abnormal, eery, and she didn't like it. Peering through the glass window that displayed the track in front of them, Ariadne could make out the station at the entrance of the tunnel directly beyond the bridge. There were projections pouring out of it, making their way down the track towards the stationary subway train.

She wondered for a moment which would hit them first: the projections, the emergency operators wherever they were, or the impact of another train running into them from behind. Regardless, she had to move fast.

Running back to the dreamers, she checked them all over quickly, worrying as she found Arthur's knee still bleeding rather sluggishly. She paused to wipe the sweat gently from his forehead once more, then pulled the headphones out and placed them carefully over Cobb's ears, hitting play. She could make out the music starting through the headphones, the volume up as it blasted into Cobb's ears. It was now or never.

She hurried over to the back door of the subway car that joined them to the next, and after struggling a moment, opened it once more. Leaving the door open, she hurried back and grabbed Eames under the arms. Tiny as she was, she was going to have to be capable of accomplishing this one task. It took her just under thirty seconds to drag Eames, Cobb, Arthur, and Mal all the short distance to the door of the subway car. She pulled the PASIV along behind them, then made her way down carefully through the gap between the cars and onto the track below her, sweating and already short of breath from dragging the others that short distance.

Scared the train was suddenly going to start moving, she was quick to pull Cobb, Arthur, and Eames down onto the track after her, bringing the PASIV with them. She didn't bother with Mal, simply allowing the IV line connected to her wrist to unwind and lengthen itself automatically as the distance between the suitcase and Mal grew.

Ariadne could see the projections on the track getting closer now, and her panic mounted as she realized she was nearly within their range. She didn't bother being gentle now as she frantically pulled each of the three men over to the edge of the bridge, only feeling some regret as she jostled Arthur's knee in particular, dragging them all one-by-one a good several metres away from the track. She looked down for a moment at the drop once they were all there, feeling suddenly sick as she stared down at the busy highway seventy feet below them. It would have to work as a kick.

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Eames couldn't breathe. All he could feel was pain. His chest was on fire, and as he struggled to breathe through the panic hitting him, he found that he still couldn't do it after several long seconds. He didn't have a medical degree, but he didn't need to have one to know that something was seriously wrong with his right lung. The bullet had make contact in his upper chest, and he had felt it as it had entered his rib cage, ricocheting inside him, puncturing his lung in the process. The only way he could describe the pain was that it the pain of dying. It seemed abnormal, unreal almost, as he lay there on the bed. He was dying and he knew it.

He was aware of Robert Fischer kneeling beside him, a hand on his arm, shaking him frantically and desperately. "Dad!" Fischer was calling to him. "Dad, please, please no. Hold on, just hold on."

Eames realized he was still projecting Maurice. He had broken his way into Fischer's vault earlier having already known the number combination, killed Fischer's real projection of his father, then dragged the body hastily from the vault and quickly concealed it outside. Lying there, in Maurice's place in the bed inside the deepest part of his son's mind, Eames wondered vaguely whether this was what it had felt like for Saito when he had been shot. Had it been this surreal, this disembodying?

"Dad," Fischer pleaded. "Come on, hold on. Talk to me."

Eames managed to focus his eyes on Fischer's as he felt darkness creeping into the corner of his eyes. He stared at him for a moment, mouth open, trying to form words and trying to draw breath at the same time.

"What is it, Dad?"

Finally, finally, Eames managed to force some oxygen into his lungs. "I'm so proud of you," he struggled to spit out the words of the script, his only thoughts on his little sister and what would happen to her if he didn't complete the job.

Fischer shook his head. "Please, no, Dad. I still need you."

"You have the corporation, son. Our company to remember me." Eames struggled to take in more oxygen, but he couldn't do it. He was battling, and he didn't know if he'd be able to hold on until the end of their conversation as he felt a dark curtain pressing on the edge of his vision.

"No, I can't do it. I need to build something for myself, remember? You wanted me to be my own man."

Eames choked, forcing a small shake of his head as he finally lost his focus. He managed to cough out the last few breaths. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Least of all to me."

And then he finally gave in and let the darkness take him.

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**Whew, another chapter up and done! We're getting pretty near the end now. Hope you enjoyed reading. I'd love to hear from you!  
><strong>**~kat**


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: **Thanks to The anamalous for your review, it made me feel really great. And as always, thanks to you, Kitty Quasar.**

**Chapter Twelve**

It was a calm, warm day in the upper levels of the Fischer-Morrow conglomerate main offices. Peter Browning sat in a huge leather armchair several paces away from where the team and his godson lay asleep, working. The rays of sunlight from the windows along the one wall streamed in, his chair caught in one of those streams. The heat felt warm and relaxing on his face, and he could feel himself becoming drowsy. The news played on the television in the corner but the words just blended together seamlessly in the background of his mind. It had been a while now since Cobb's team had gone under. He closed his eyes lazily for a moment against the sunlight then found he couldn't open them again. He was drifting...

"Excuse me, Mr. Browning."

The words jerked him out of his reverie with a snap. He grunted slightly, sitting up straight and temporarily shaking off his drowsiness. "Yes."

The dark-haired woman in the pin-striped suit looked somewhat uncertain about whether she should have waken up. "Is it alright if I start the music now? They'll hopefully be awake in a couple of minutes."

Rita, Browning reminded himself of her name. She was his assistant's cousin, someone who never saw Robert, and probably never would again.

"Sure, whatever they told you to do," Browning mumbled back a reply, feeling his eyelids begging to droop again.

She nodded. "Alright, they should be awake shortly, then."

Browning watched as she placed the headphones carefully over the youngest dreamer's head. The dreamer was barely more than a girl; he couldn't imagine what she was doing in the dream-sharing business. He felt his attention dwindle as Rita pressed play and the music presumably began in the headphones. The heat of the sun was hypnotizing, and his attention was lost again as he slouched back into the folds of his armchair.

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Ariadne was lying flat on her stomach when she finally made out the dull pounding of music in the background. She was nearing the end of the time they had alotted themselves on this level.

Bullets whizzed over top of her, and she pressed herself further to the nook between the rails and the cement on the side of the bridge, willing the music to hurry up. The others lay next to her, no more than a foot from the edge of the bridge, but their presences offered her little reassurance. She fired a few shots in the projections' direction, but her targets were still too far away and none made contact. And meanwhile they were still advancing towards her.

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Cobb had initially become aware of the music a while ago, but as he looked at Mal, he could see she wasn't about to just let him go. Her words echoed in his mind, bouncing around, refusing to leave him. And that nagging doubt that never seemed to go away, it was growing and festering, fed by her.

"Let me go, Mal," he said softly.

She shook her head. "No. You deserve this."

"But the others don't."

"I don't care."

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It took Arthur a fair time to set the explosives. He was quite careful about the projections, making sure to take out the majority of them from behind before they could see him. As he ran around the complex, he could feel his leg steadily beginning to weaken again, as it had in the hotel level.

Standing underneath one of the towers in a fairly blind spot, he set an explosive carefully at its base then activated it. Concentrating on setting the charge, he didn't see the projection that had come down from the top of the tower until the nearly inaudible sound of crunching snow behind him gave the man up. Not waiting to turn around, he threw himself to the ground just as gunfire erupted in the spot where his head had been milliseconds previously. Throwing his arms up to protect his neck and head instinctively, he frantically rolled to one side towards the edge of a small ravine, feeling the bullets peppering around and behind him. Two seconds later, he had managed to roll himself off the edge of the small, though steep hill. He slid down it in a rush of snow and ice, bringing up his gun as he skidded to a stop near the base. The projections appeared at the top of the hill at the same time as he nailed him in the shoulder. The man fell forward, tumbling face-first down the hill. He came to a stop several paces underneath Arthur and didn't move.

Arthur stared at the body for a second, then took a second to catch his breath. As the pounding of his heart slowed, he became aware instead of the distant pounding of Edith Piaf. He took a moment to calculate what part of the song it was before pushing himself up off his stomach. The music must have been playing for a very long time, unnoticed by him over the wind.

Suddenly a weight crashed onto him from behind, causing his arms to give out as he collapsed to the snow again, the weight onto top of him grinding his body back into the snow. He felt an arm lock around his neck, forcing his head up and he choked as the projection tightened his hold. He attempted to fight back, but was unable to make hard enough contact with the man on top of him to loosen his hold. He continued to struggle for a moment before he was finally able to tilt his gun back far enough to shoot the man in the upper arm once more. The projection yelled, temporarily distracted, and Arthur was able to throw the man off him. His breath returning in aching gasps, he aimed swiftly, and shot three bullets into the projection's head. Not taking the time to let the panic fade from him this time, he hurriedly forced himself to his feet. He struggled up the small ravine, ankle-deep in ungroomed snow. Near the top he felt his knee give out again and was thrown face-first into the cold snow. He shoved himself up once more, brushing the flakes out of his eyes with his equally wet gloves, and forced himself to continue to the next spot to set the next charge.

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Ariadne shook her head as the song continued on and on through the mp3 player in Cobb's ears. Only fifteen seconds had passed since she had first pressed play, but it seemed like an eternity ago. The projections sent a round of gunfire at her again, the bullets closer to her this time. She wasn't going to have enough time for the song to finish. She crawled the few feet over to Cobb, staying as low to the rough cement as she could. She fumbled with the controls of the mp3 player, skipping forward ten seconds in the song.

"Sorry, you're going to have to do your best down there," she whispered a frantic apology as another bullet streaked past, narrowly missing Fischer on the ground.

She grabbed Arthur's hand in one of her's, then Cobb's (who was the closest) in her other. A bullet hit the ground an inch from her foot and she jumped slightly, before taking a breath and kicking Fischer and Eames over the edge of the bridge. She pushed herself off the cement a millisecond after them, pulling Arthur and Cobb over with her. And then the gunfire was ripping through the air above them and they were falling.

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The music suddenly changed in the background of the changing room as Cobb continued to stare down at his wife. It seemed to skip, and all of a sudden he realized he had less than a minute to initiate the kick as the music had jumped forward three or four minutes in the song.

He lept away from Mal, back into the showers and shoved the headphones hurriedly over Eames' ears.

"Dom, stop."

A gun clicked behind him, and he turned to see Mal with it up again.

"Put it down, Mal."

"Step away from the dreamers then," she replied.

He hesitated, then stood up slowly, obligingly. "Alright."

She walked him back into the changing area, her gun still levelled on him the whole time. "I thought you might listen to me," she whispered.

"I did," he replied.

"Then why haven't you changed your mind?"

He walked over to her slowly, ignoring the gun, and put a hand to her cheek, looking into her familiar eyes which were slowly starting to mist over. "I love you, honey," he said softly. "You know that. More than anything... And I'm so sorry."

Abruptly, he smashed his elbow down on her wrist. She cried out in pain, dropping the gun instinctively and he dived for it as it slid away across the floor. Grabbing it, he wheeled around just as she managed to raise another Glock she'd had on her. His bullet hit her square between the eyes, and she was dead before she hit the ground.

There was an abrupt, eery silence that followed. Cobb dropped the gun to the ground as he realized what he'd done. He stepped forward slowly, kneeling down beside his wife's prone form once more. Why did all this have to be so familiar?

"I'm so sorry," he repeated quietly, half to Mal, but also half to himself. "But you're not my real wife."

He kissed her gently on the cheek, then stepped back. He knew he was never going to go back to dream-sharing again. Not if this was what would be awaiting him every time. And he knew, he would never be truly rid of Mal.

He made his way back to the dreamers and bent down next to Eames, pressing play on the mp3 player. He leant back slowly against the tiles of the shower wall, closing his eyes as he listened to the slow beating of the music in his mind, counting down the beats until the song ended on the mp3 player and the song ended on the level above in his mind. He gripped the detonator in his hand, focussing on the familiar sounds and rhythms. "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien." It had always been one of Mal's favourites. And as he thought of her and of James and Philippa, he felt a sudden overwhelming, crushing need for them. The job was so close to over. He was so close to going home.

Like the song, he couldn't regret anything, he told himself. Because if he did, then he would never be able to continue, never be able to move on.

So he pressed the detonator.

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Arthur sprinted back into the room where Fischer's vault was just as the final chords of the song began agonizingly slowly. He guessed to have roughly four minutes before the kick.

He began to head for the doors of the vault at the far end of the room, but before he could reach them they slid open by themselves and Fischer hurried out, looking distraught.

"Please, you have to help my father," he begged, his eyes somewhat misty.

Arthur nodded hastily. "I need you to stand guard out here," he said. "I don't think there are any projections left on guard around here, but even if there are, I don't think they'll want to hurt you. Just keep them out of the vault."

Fisher nodded uneasily, and Arthur hastened into the vault without a backward glance. The doors clicked shut loudly behind him as he hurried over to Eames, who had morphed back into himself now.

Three minutes left before the kick.

He could see Eames was still breathing, but only just, and it was shallow and laboured. His pulse, too, was light and racing, as if his heart knew of the inevitable death it was racing towards. A quick glance down at his chest told Arthur that the bullet from the projection had punctured at least one of his lungs, not counting what other eternal damage it had done.

Two and a half minutes. He could make it.

Arthur slapped Eames sharply across the face. "Hey, Eames. Listen to me. Hey." He slapped him again, harder this time, and Eames' eyelids flickered slightly as he let out a groan.

"You're not going down to Limbo, you here me? You've got two minutes before the kick. You can make it."

Eames' eyes managed to focus on him as Arthur sat down beside him.

"Two minutes. Hold on."

He reached out and grasped Eames' shoulder. They weren't honestly all that close; they'd never really worked together all that much before the inception, and when they had they'd spent most of their time arguing or teasing one another over little things. But the mutual respect was still very definitely there for each of them, and Arthur knew that if there situations were flipped, Eames would do no less for him. So he stayed there, gripping the other man's shoulder, counting down the seconds slowly for him over his laboured breaths and gasps, forcing him to stay awake despite everything.

And finally, finally, Arthur was able to count out the last few dragging bars of the song. He pressed the detonator, the ground beneath their feet exploded, and he knew that they would be alright.

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**Just another chapter or two to go! Hope you enjoyed reading it, as always I would love from you. **

**~kat**


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: **Wow, after five months, this is finally the last chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

Disclaimer:** Unbelievably, Inception still doesn't belong to me in any way, shape, or form.**

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**Chapter Thirteen**

The next few seconds passed in a blur. The floor of the hospital collapsed and through the fire in his chest, Eames felt the jolt of falling as the bed beneath him gave way. The familiar but still panicky sensation of falling struck him, and his body instinctively jerked in an attempt to fight the gravity.

Then suddenly, the burning pain was blissfully gone, and he was on solid ground once more, shaking slightly from the shadow of pain. He was aware of a pounding of music through the headphones over his ears just as the echo of another explosion hit him inside what seemed to be a shower room. Disoriented, he felt the sickening sensation in his stomach again as the wet tiles beneath him gave way again and once more he was falling.

This time he opened his eyes as a foot made contact with his side. An instinctive moment of panic hit him as he was kicked him off a cement edge towards a road tens of feet below him. The falling sensation hit him a final time, and he opened his eyes with a jump as the chair he had been sitting in made a hard contact with the floor behind him.

He was in an office lounge once more, his body's natural jerk at the falling sensation prevented him from striking his head on the ground behind him. The momentum of his chair slamming back from the fall sent him sprawling out across the floor. He lay for a moment where he had come to rest on the polished wood, feeling his heart beat thudding in his ears.

As the pounding faded, he turned his head to see the others all on the ground as well. He made eye contact with Cobb, lying beside him and neither of them said anything for a moment as the adrenaline slowly began to fade from each of them.

It was over, Eames realized. They had done it. Again.

He saw Cobb bolt up suddenly and rush to check on Fischer, clearing his line of sight to Arthur and Ariadne. They were both slowly sitting up, Ariadne rubbing the back of her head and looking somewhat dazed as Arthur gently helped her up. None of them spoke as each of their minds whirled.

Eames shoved himself to his feet quickly as well and hurried over to Cobb, who was kneeling beside the PASIV. A glance around the room showed him Rita, the middle-aged woman in the pin-striped suit, standing off to the side, looking unsure of what to do now that her job was done. Two security guards were heading back to their former positions by the door, apparently having finished help Rita tip the chairs back at roughly the same time. Meanwhile, Browning was standing a few paces away with one hand in his pocket and a glass of wine in the other, stepping towards them furtively.

"Did you do it?" Browning demanded.

Cobb glanced up at him briefly from the PASIV. "We're not sure yet." He finished administering the additional sedative to Fischer then stepped back. Fischer had initially jerked awake along with the rest of them as his chair had fallen back (the security man in charge of him being careful he wasn't hurt), but he had been confused and disoriented, unaware of his surroundings.

"Did you get him under again before he was aware of what was going on?" Arthur asked.

"I think so," Cobb replied.

Eames let out all of his breath with a puff, turning to pace away in relief. Suddenly, he laughed. "We did it," he told Cobb as Cobb opened his mouth to finally ask the inevitable question. "We bloody well did it down there."

There was a beat, then a sudden relieved laugh came from Ariadne as they all realized that that was it. Cobb's face broke into a smile, as it finally struck home with him, too. He was going home.

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**Epilogue**

Eames' flight back to Hammersmith didn't leave for two days, so while they had planned for Arthur to be the one to stay to in contact with Browning for the few days after the eradication, Eames didn't think he would be able to survive two days in _The Duke and Dutchess _with Arthur and Ariadne as his only company. Cobb had gone the evening of the eradication, driving back home to his kids.

While it was hard for Eames to convince Ariadne to just leave him and go at first, he ended up just telling her point-blank that he didn't want to spend any more time than he had to with them while they were both together.

"Jealous much?" Ariadne had teased him.

"Disgusted, more like," he had replied lightly.

The two of them had left for the plane back to Paris first thing the morning after they had finished the eradication. Arthur had claimed he was just accompanying Ariadne home before taking his connecting flight back to Austria once more, but Eames knew he was telling them this only for Cobb's sake, that it may be a while before Arthur really returned to Vienna again. For the first time in a while though, he bit his tongue and was content in letting them be happy.

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Eames stayed at _The Duke and Duchess _another two whole days in the end. He called Browning the first night to check on Fischer, and everything they had worked towards seemed in order. Fisher had apparently withdrawn his original orders to split up the company, somewhat confused about his motives, but absolutely fine apart from that.

Fischer was fine, and the business would be, as well. Their job had been successful. Browning didn't need anything more from any of them.

Finally, Eames was able to at last catch a flight back to Hammersmith. He bought a first class ticket, the same airline Saito had purchased what felt like a lifetime ago now during the inception job. He had no problem getting on, and once they were safely in the air, he called his sister to tell her he was coming home. She told him she would be waiting.

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Cobb rented a car to drive back to his children the evening of the eradication. He phoned Browning before he left, repeatedly spinning Mal's top on the desk in front of him and watching it fall over and over again as the other man reassured him that his family was safe and that they would never bother him again.

"Not even for another job?" Cobb checked.

"We'll hire someone else," Browning promised.

It was nighttime as Cobb finally neared his city. The evening news was on, and at the sound of a familiar name, Cobb turned the volume up. The Fischer-Morrow company had broken up for all of half an hour that afternoon, before Fischer's orders could be withdrawn and his new ones reinstated. In that time frame, however, Proclus Global had bought half the shares of the Fischer-Morrow conglomerate, and the rival company wasn't about to sell the shares back.

Cobb smiled to himself as he turned the volume back down, pleased at least for Saito, if not for the company itself.

He pulled down the familiar street, and spotted his house back amongst the trees with a rush of excitement. Pulling into the driveway, he hastily pulled the keys from the ignition and hurried up the front steps of his house.

Miles and Marie were in the living room watching a television show together, and as Cobb glanced into the room, he saw his father-in-law's arm around Marie's shoulders as they sat with their backs to him.

Smiling, Cobb continued down the hallway to his children's bedrooms. Philippa was asleep in her bed, and as he walked into her room he felt his heart skip just to see her face again. He walked quietly over to her and scooped her gently up in his arms. She didn't wake as he held her to him, her chin resting on his shoulder and her cheek against his neck. Her warmth in his arms seemed surreal; too good to be true.

He carried his sleeping daughter into James' room where he knelt down beside his son's bed, watching his deep and even breathing. He moved the free hand that wasn't holding Philippa up to James' face, tucking a blond curl behind his son's tiny ear.

James' eyes opened and he stared up at his father for a moment in silence. "Is this a dream, Daddy?" he asked quietly.

"No, sweetheart, I'm here for good now," Cobb replied softly.

He felt Philippa stir against him, and she woke to find herself in her father's arms once more. She hugged him for a long moment as James sat up and also put his tiny arms around his father.

"Don't go again, Dad," Philippa said.

"I won't, honey."

"Promise?" said James, his voice high but muffled as his face was still buried in his dad's stomach.

"I promise. Here." Cobb managed to free an arm and pulled out Mal's top from his pocket. He felt the familiar weight of the totem in the palm of his hand and looked at it one last time.

"What's that for, Daddy?" James asked, looking up at it.

"Nothing that either of you will ever need to worry about," Cobb said softly. Philippa didn't say a word as he finally handed it to her. "Now I want you two to keep it somewhere safe, somewhere neither me nor anyone else can find it. Can you do that for me? It was Mom's."

Philippa nodded solemnly. "Yes, Daddy."

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**And that's it! I'm so happy to have finally finished my very first fan-fic (though a little sad, too) and I just wanted to thank everyone who's ever reviewed, favourited, or alerted this story. You guys really kept me going with the knowledge that somebody was reading (and hopefully enjoying) my work. And I especially want to thank Kitty Quasar one last time for your page-long reviews of every single chapter, you kept this story going so much. I hope you all enjoyed reading, you guys are wonderful! **

**~kat**


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